


Ship in a Bottle

by EllianaDunla



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 00:38:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 31,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1878429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllianaDunla/pseuds/EllianaDunla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'I have become the ship in the bottle,' Milah realises. And it is only now that she knows she had asked the wrong question all those years ago. She shouldn’t have asked how it got in, she should have asked how it got out.</p><p>Milah's story from her perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

When asked what exactly it is that she likes about Rumplestiltskin, Milah the farmer’s daughter would be hard-pressed to come up with an answer right away. It’s just something that she feels when she is in his company, something that she can’t quite define, but that make her feel like she is where she belongs. That of course is too vague an answer for her father, who has no trouble at all coming up with a long list of reasons why it would be very unwise to tie herself to Rumple for life.

‘I won’t let you marry that man until you can tell me why you want to.’ That’s what her father has told her.

Which is fine by her; Milah has never been one to back down from a challenge of any kind. So she has retreated to her bed, but not to sleep. Instead she has folded her hands under her head, staring up at the ceiling. She’s far too pleased that Rumple has finally plucked up the courage to ask her father for her hand. So if it is reasons that are required of her, then reasons she shall give.

‘I’ll let you know by morning,’ she’s informed her father, shooting a freezing glare at her brother in the process, who had the gall to snicker at the idea of his baby sister marrying the fatherless spinner from the village. He doesn’t know Rumple like she does and until he does, he should keep his opinions – and his mocking – to himself.

But she is never going to be allowed to get close to him again unless she completes her own task before dawn, which brings her back to her own mission. Rumple has completed his by asking for her hand, and it is her part to play to ensure her father’s cooperation.

It’s thinking like that that actually gets her anywhere. And so Milah casts her mind back to the first time she met the man she hopes to call her husband before Midsummer, the first time she properly met him, because she has sort of known him for ages, so long that she can’t really remember a time when Rumple didn’t live in this village. And theirs is a small village. Everyone knows everyone. It’s the way things are.

So yes, she has known him for years, but she never took any notice of him until about two years ago. It was summer and she had gone to the well to fetch some water. On the way back she had tripped over… well, she can’t recall what exactly she tripped over to begin with, but tripping she did. And as she did, she let the bucket fall, sending the contents all over a startled Rumplestiltskin.

‘Oh, I am so sorry!’ she had started apologising, feeling the most clumsy girl in all the known realms. She would have done that regardless of who her victim was, Milah knows.

‘It… it doesn’t matter,’ Rumplestiltskin apologised, even though she was quite sure that it did matter; he was soaked and so was the wool he was carrying.

And his reaction took her by surprise; most people would have snapped at her, told her to watch where she was going. And they certainly wouldn’t have had that shy smile or that adorable not-quite-stammer. None of those nameless other people would have gone as far as Rumple went by also bending down to retrieve her bucket for her, that far too adorable smile still on his face.

‘Thank you,’ she remembers saying. She had been smiling like an idiot, not the wisest thing to do when just having soaked the person opposite her. ‘Do you need help with that?’ she added, eyeing the wool, hoping to every deity in existence that she hasn’t ruined something very important. Milah may be a farmer’s daughter, but wool is not her area of expertise.

Rumple was quick to decline her kind offer. ‘There’s no need.’

But Milah had never been one to back off. And she had just dropped a bucket full of water over him. Unintentionally of course, but she had done it all the same. The least she could do was to make it up to him.

‘Well, my bucket is empty,’ she pointed out. ‘I might as well put it to good use.’ Without waiting for the reply, she took the wool from him and deposited it in the bucket.  
It might have been the end of the story if he had actually let her carry his load home for him. Instead he took the bucket, carried it, left the wool at his home and then fetched her water, which he would have carried home for her if the spinsters he lived with hadn’t called him back in to finish some order or other that really couldn’t wait.

Rumple is nothing like the other men Milah knows.

And maybe that is where her answer lies, she realises, smiling in the darkness.

When morning comes, she marches to her father, ready to list the things she memorised during the nightly hours. ‘Rumple is gentle,’ she says. ‘He works hard. He doesn’t get drunk. He isn’t violent.’

He is, in short, everything that other men are not. Rumple is _safe_. And that is exactly what Milah wants. There are more than enough dangers in the world without the people adding to it, and danger is not what she is looking for in a relationship.

* * *

 

Of course that doesn’t mean that her life is easier as soon as she marries Rumplestiltskin. The bliss of being newlyweds fades soon enough when there is work to be done. But such is the way of life. And Milah is the daughter of a farmer; she has never known any different. She can spin well enough, but not as well as Rumple, so he takes care to ensure that they are provided for. Milah in turn makes sure that the cottage they live in remains liveable. She cooks, she cleans, she mends. The latter doesn’t come easily to her, but Rumple is teaching her and she gets better.

Her life is mundane and predictable. But that is what she wanted, and she doesn’t regret it. Rumple makes for a good husband, a better one than many of her friends claim to have. He doesn’t run off to drink his money away in the tavern, he shares her bed and no one else’s and he loves her enough to show her these thoughtful kindnesses. It’s what Milah likes best about him. Some days he brings her breakfast in bed when she doesn’t feel like rising yet, just so she can delay the inevitable a little longer. Sometimes, when there is some coin to spare, he buys her trinkets he knows she’ll like. Other days, there’s wildflowers in the clay vase on the table.

So what does she care for the rumours that are going around about him? It is hardly his fault that his father ran off and left him, is it? He can’t help it, so Milah snaps witty retorts at the gossipers in the market place and drives a hard enough bargain for her purchases that her neighbours don’t have time to talk. They need all their wits about them for dealing with her.

But it is obviously bothering her husband. He cares about what people are saying about him. It’s like he is desperate to go out there and prove those gossipers wrong. And Milah dislikes the thought of that. She married Rumple because he was safe, because he didn’t feel the need to show off just how brave he was.

And that is something she has never doubted. Rumple isn’t brave the way other men are, those other men who swing a sword around and think that makes them brave. Milah rather thinks it makes them stupid. She’s seen their ilk many times, young soldiers marching through their village on their way to the front, all thinking that they would be the ones to put an end to the Ogre’s War with one hand tied behind their back. Milah thinks them foolish for courting danger like that, and she is never surprised when they do not return. Only the wounded come back from the field of battle after all, and fools are the first to die.

Strange how such a war can be ongoing and yet it does not affect their lives. Well, she reckons it does affect them in some way, because she hears the news from the front like everyone else and she sees the soldiers march to war, but the front itself is far away in some place that she doesn’t even know the name of and where she will likely never set foot. Nor does she have any wish to. Milah finds that she is oddly content with her life. And as her friends start marrying and having families of their own, she realises that is what she wants as well. And clearly, so does Rumple.

Until the day that her life changes. Milah doesn’t understand Rumple’s enthusiasm and clearly doesn’t see why that piece of parchment he’s dangling in front of her face could be the cause of such joy. Drafted in for the Ogre’s War? What are they thinking? But Rumple is talking about stepping out of his father’s shadow, acting like this is what he has waited for.

And Milah finds that she may have underestimated the depth of this particular sentiment. She always assumed that, like her, Rumplestiltskin could not care what the people thought. He went out and faced them day after day, never commenting on their words. Only now that he is talking about proving to the rest of the world that he is not a coward does it dawn on her that she has not been paying enough attention.

She supposes she should be glad that he doesn’t think she ever mistook his gentleness for cowardice, but Milah is not in the mood for positive thoughts like that. All of a sudden her mind is far too eager to recall every piece of news she has ever heard about the front, and it never is good news. Brutal, harsh, deadly. Those are the words that spring to mind. And such a place is not a place for her kind husband. Does he even know how to fight, how to wield a sword? He’ll be like a sheep among wolves there. She’ll lose him and then what will become of her?

The terror is bubbling in her chest, making it hard to breathe, because her life suddenly seems to have been built on shifting sands, and everything she holds dear is becoming uncertain. Milah hates that.

But what choice does she have? One does not refuse a summons like this, not if you want to live. And so she tells him to be brave and fight with honour.

It’s the right thing to say. His face lights up and he tells her that he loves her.

‘I love you too,’ Milah hears herself saying, knowing that she means it. And it is that love that makes this all so terrifying; love makes the prospect of loss look so much more painful. But she has decided to put on a brave face now, so she won’t back down. That has never been her thing anyway. She soldiers on. ‘And when you return, we can start living the life we’ve always dreamed of. We can have a family.’ _And you’d better come back, Rumple. Don’t you dare die._

Rumple speaks those last words with her. The look in his eyes softens and that smile appears, the smile Milah first fell for when she dropped the bucket over him. And she is done for. She loves this man and the life they’re having together. It isn’t the life of a king, but she doesn’t want that anyway. With Rumple, she is content.

And now she is about to lose it all.

He makes love to her that night, the last night before he leaves, and Milah can’t deny that she hopes it will result in a pregnancy. It would give her something to remember him by, and she means to tell him that, but the words die on her lips when she sees the joy in his eyes, the newfound confidence that has never been a part of Rumplestiltskin before. In his head there is no room for thoughts of death and destruction. To him, this is the start of a new life, a better life.

So she bites her tongue and reveals nothing of her own fears as she bids him farewell in the pale morning light.

Still, he must have seen something in her eyes, because he takes her hands, as if to reassure her. ‘I can do this, Milah,’ he tells her. ‘You will see. We will have a family.’

Does he know what he is facing there? Surely he must; he’s heard all the things she has. Does he simply choose not to see it? Milah dismisses that thought the moment it enters her head. No, Rumple has endured all the gossip here, and he has never shied away from that. He would not try to deny what was so considered common knowledge.

‘I know,’ she tells him, keeping her real thoughts to herself. That is not what he needs from her. ‘I love you.’ That at least is the truth. ‘Come back to me.’ She means that as well.

And there is her favourite smile again. ‘I will,’ he promises.

* * *

 

But he won’t be back for quite some time, and Milah knows this. The front is far away. To get there would take weeks, so she knows that if there is any news, if he will have time to send her some, it will be weeks, if not months, in coming.

Her own news comes sooner. Maybe some god out there was actually listening to her when she prayed for a child that night before Rumple left, because there is new life growing in her womb. At first she hardly dares to believe that it could be true, that she really has been that fortunate, but all the signs are there. Still, it is only when her neighbours start to comment on her condition that she really can accept it for the truth that it is. If Rumple comes home, they will be a family.

‘It can’t be easy,’ one of her neighbours remarks one day as they fetch water from the well. It’s Wilma, a slightly older woman with three children and a husband recently returned home from the war, too injured to fight. Not that you’d know he was injured from the way he holds himself. True, he’s killed an ogre, but he also lost one of his legs in the attempt. This does not give him the right to behave as if he’s the king and Wilma, by extension, to act as queen.

‘What’s that?’ she asks, not looking up to acknowledge the other woman’s presence. Wilma’s tongue must surely be cursed by a dark fairy at birth, because as long as Milah can remember, no kind word has ever crossed her lips. Pretend kindness, maybe, so she believes she can be forgiven for searching for the snake in the grass.

‘Having to raise a child all by yourself.’ Wilma either doesn’t recognise the signs that Milah does not wish for her company or she ignores them.

‘Rumple may yet come home from the war.’ There is absolutely no way she will share her fears with this woman. If she does, then everybody will know of them by nightfall, and she will not give them the satisfaction of letting them know that she doubts Rumplestiltskin in any way. They do enough doubting for the entire village already. ‘Your husband did.’

‘With honour,’ Wilma agrees, puffing her chest in pride.

 _As if you’d ever let any of us forget it_ , Milah thinks venomously. ‘Is there a point to this?’ she asks.

‘I just mean to say that you should not get your hopes up, dear.’ The would-be motherly pat on the shoulder gives Milah the urge to bat the hand away, forcefully. ‘Rumplestiltskin may return home, true enough. But well, some men return with honour. Some don’t.’

Milah is known for her quick wits; the message is clear enough. ‘Rumple is not a coward,’ she snaps, unable to hold it back. She believes that with all her heart.

‘Your faith in him is touching,’ Wilma says, false smile plastered all over her face. ‘I hope you’ll be proven right.’

 _You hope for that as much as I hope for your husband to magically regrow his leg._ She picks up the pail and marches back to her cottage without wasting another word on the woman. Were it that her words were as easily discarded.

* * *

 

Milah absolutely hates how Wilma’s words work their way underneath her skin, ever more so the longer she hears nothing from Rumple. Her pregnancy is progressing well, and business is not bad either, but she misses her husband. Surely he’d be delighted if only he knew that they are about to have a child.

She still loves the idea of a family, still wants Rumple’s parting gift so badly it hurts at times, but now her gladness is mingled with doubts and fears.

_What if Rumple has died? Some widows never even get the news._

_What if I cannot support the child on my own?_

_What if Rumple is taken prisoner?_

_What if he is injured?_

_What would become of us if he can’t work anymore?_

And then, the worst one: _What if Wilma is right?_

All those fears and more creep up on her during the nightly hours, when she finds sleep a stranger and all those things she refuses to think of during the day demand her undivided attention. She doesn’t want to think any of it, but she also knows that no war is without risk, and Rumple in a battle would be as much out of place as a fish in a sand desert. Sheep among hungry wolves. He was not born to fight. Her gentle husband, what chance does he have?

_None at all._

It’s a harsh thought and one Milah does not want to acknowledge, but she is nothing if not practical and it is not like her to try and hide from the truth. Of course, stranger things have been done in the name of love, but not by her. Maybe it is time that she starts to accept that she had seen the last of him that morning they said farewell. Even if she is not a widow yet, she may be one soon enough.

The thought all but cripples her.

 _Come back to me_ , she had commanded him, and Milah has not forgotten his promise to indeed return. But it is something he could never have promised her with absolute certainty; wars don’t care about promises and Milah won’t be the first wife to be made a promise of return, only to have her husband returned to her in a coffin, if there was even that much left of him to bury. And she doubts she will be the last.

The birth of her child is expected within the next couple of days away when everything changes. She really should not be out as much as she is, but Milah reckons she has to get her food from somewhere, and it’s not like she’ll ask the infernal Wilma woman or one of her cronies to do it for her. Either way, they’ll end up paying too much for it; she knows herself well enough to be certain she always gets the better bargain.

But something is different today. She can almost taste the change in atmosphere the moment she sets foot in the market place. People are staring, and for the life of her, Milah cannot tell why.

‘It’s a miracle she even dares to show her face.’ It’s no more than a whisper and Milah is unable to pinpoint just who may have said it, but she dislikes the sound of it. There is no question that she is the _she_ that is mentioned; conversations fall quiet when she passes.

‘If I were her, I’d never leave the house again.’ It’s a woman’s voice, filling the silence that has fallen just as she passes another stall, the one where she usually buys her bread.

‘Maybe she hasn’t been told yet,’ another woman suggests. This time Milah sees the speaker, a young woman, almost a girl still, by the name of Mary.

‘Haven’t been told what exactly?’ she demands, drawing herself up to her full height to look a bit more impressive. The baby bump undermines her attempt severely, but Mary still staggers back when she catches sight of the woman she had just been gossiping about.

‘Milah!’ The forced enthusiasm in her voice makes her greeting sound more like a yelp than anything else. ‘I didn’t see you there.’

 _That much is obvious or you wouldn’t be talking like that_. ‘Haven’t been told what, Mary?’ she repeats.

It’s Wilma – because of course that woman is right at the heart of the gossip and why has Milah been expecting any different? – who takes it upon herself to answer with barely concealed glee. ‘It seems you were right about your husband, dear. He is coming home.’

Rumple is coming home? For half a moment Milah’s heart feels that much lighter, but the joy vaporises when she realises that she has been the subject of malicious talk just now. Rumple’s homecoming would have been a cause for celebration, if not for the village, then for her at least. It would not justify this.

‘Then why should I hide in my house?’ she questions, head held high. She won’t cower away. It’s not what she does.

Wilma turns on the smile, the variety that is so false that Milah can see right through it in under a second. ‘Because I was right too. Some men return with honour, others don’t.’

This time it does take a few seconds for the message to sink in, but then it is like she has been punched in the gut and slapped across the face. No, Rumple is not a coward, she knows him better than that. But Wilma’s words are raining down on her and Milah listens, barely comprehending what she is being told. _Rumours all concur, injured himself to escape battle, too frightened to fight like a man, crippled for life, coward, coward, coward._

She swallows. She won’t believe this. If she does not believe in her husband, then who will? Certainly not these people, who have been doubting him for as long as they have known him. ‘You are saying all this is based on _rumours_?’ she snarls. ‘Would that be the same kind of rumour that claimed that the ogres were using tree trunks as swords and mountain tops for shields?’ And she remembers how the official messenger had roared with laughter when asked the truth about that tale. Rumours from the front travel quick, but are often as not completely unreliable. And she’ll be damned if she believes as much as a single word of it.

The market place falls blessedly silent, and Milah is on the verge of feeling some measure of relief when she experiences that feeling of being punched in the gut again. Her baby is coming.

* * *

 

She births her son in blood and agony, surrounded by a bunch of women who have been insulting her this very afternoon. And now she is to place her own wellbeing and that of her child in their hands. Milah wants to scream at them to get out of her house, but she is also practical enough to know that she cannot do this on her own, and so she reluctantly tolerates their presence for as long as she has a need of them.

Their usefulness runs out though the moment she has the child in her arms, a beautiful baby boy she names Baelfire. Within seconds this tiny little human has captured her heart in a way that not even his father had ever quite managed. He is hers and he is beautiful.

 _Your father will be here soon_ , she wants to tell him, but she daren’t, not with all those old “well-meaning” hags still under her roof. Rumplestiltskin will have been injured in the war, she never questions that, but it will have happened in battle. Injuring himself? Who would even think of such a thing?

‘If there is anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask,’ Wilma says. ‘I know how taxing those first days can be, especially when you’re alone.’

‘I’m asking you to leave,’ Milah replies pointedly. _Get out of my house and take your talk with you._

‘We know Rumplestiltskin’s cowardice cannot be blamed on you,’ Wilma reassures her.

Milah knows a falsehood when she hears one.

‘I asked you to leave,’ she repeats.

To her credit Wilma thinks it wiser not to argue with her. She departs the cottage with one of those smiles – Milah personally thinks that smirk would be the more accurate word for what she does – and leaves her neighbour to her son.

Baelfire has fallen asleep at her breast, a tiny human being completely reliable on her. ‘Your father is no coward,’ she tells him. ‘Don’t let them tell you any different.’

Her resolve doesn’t waver in the days that follow, days that are both heaven and hell to Milah in equal measure. She has a child to call her own and the prospect that Rumplestiltskin is coming home warms her heart more than she would care to admit.

At the same time the villagers have talked about little else than Rumple’s presumed cowardice. And Milah cannot ignore their words as much as she’d like. She tells them off for it, loudly and repeatedly, but they persist, even looking at her with pity for what they – behind her back and just not out of earshot – call her naivety. Their words echo in Milah’s mind at night and will not be persuaded to leave her alone.

The worst part – and she almost hates herself for even thinking it – is that their words make some sense, and she does not want them to. Because how can she deny that Rumple is not a fighter? Even as a child he could never be seen fighting with sticks along with the other boys. He barely had any muscle to speak of and no desire to fight. Rumple was and is a gentle soul. That was why she had married him in the first place. But how well would someone like that fare when faced with the horrors of battle? Sheep among wolves. Would he have run like everyone in this village seems to think he did or would he have found some unexpected strength in himself? The longer the days drag on, the more talk she hears, the more likely the former starts to sound.

The days become weeks and there is still no sign of Rumplestiltskin. Milah has half convinced herself that all the rumours were false and that he is still with the army when late one night she hears her name called out in that well-known voice. Milah is rocking Baelfire to sleep in her arms. _He’s here. He’s home_. A small voice in her head cheers that now she can prove all those doubters wrong.

She turns around when the door opens to see her husband, and he looks terrible. He’s still dressed in the clothes the army provides their soldiers with, which, admittedly, is of better quality than the garb they normally wear in this village. Other than that, Rumple is a mess. He looks like he missed out on sleep for days and there is a gleam in his eyes that doesn’t quite strike her as mad, but not as entirely sane either. From there her eyes go from the walking stick to the patchy job they did of fixing his right foot. The foot? That didn’t sound like a likely place to get hurt in a battle. She’s heard of limps being severed, injuries in the chest or on the head, cuts and bruises all over the body. But the foot? How…?

Unless Wilma was right.

She stops at that. No. No, she does not want to believe that. But it is testimony to just how deep her neighbours’ words have gotten under her skin that she does not have too much trouble jumping to that particular conclusion. And her mental _it isn’t true_ now starts to sound more like _please, don’t let it be true_ , a desperate wish rather than a certainty.

Rumple points at the baby in her arms. ‘What’s his name?’ No greeting, no words of affection and love, no smiling reminder that he came home like he promised.

She answers him all the same. ‘Baelfire.’ She’s unable to stop smiling when talking about her son. He is quiet in her arms, sleeping peacefully now.

Milah knows something is wrong though when Rumple declares it a good and strong name with too much fervour. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Rumplestiltskin is not one for raising his voice under any circumstance. Her eyes seek out his. They are almost feverish. Might be because of his injury, something she can’t quite ignore when he all but collapses and drags himself to the nearest chair.

All her attention is drawn back to it now. The foot. How does one get injured in the foot like that? From what she can see, and admittedly she can’t see very much from where she’s standing, it looks like it has been smashed. Are ogres in the habit to smash the feet of their opponents? _Injured himself to escape battle_ , Wilma had said.

_Please tell me you didn’t._

‘Something he’ll need, if he is to live with the shame of being your son.’ The words spill out of her mouth unchecked. She is startled by them herself, but she does not feel like taking them back. How else could that injury be explained?

_Please tell me you didn’t._

Rumple’s ‘What are you talking about?’ seems to imply that he really doesn’t know and maybe that means that he hasn’t done what she, against her will, starts to suspect.

But Milah needs to know for certain. ‘Rumple, is it true?’ Four words have never been harder to say, even more so because she is no longer certain she wants to hear the answer.

 _Please tell me you didn’t._ Those words are becoming a mantra that is going round and round in her head, as if she can make him answer as she wants to if only she wishes for it hard enough.

Rumple’s face is twisted in a grimace of pain, and he can’t seem to catch his breath. ‘Is what true?’ Confusion is written all over his face.

Clearly she’ll have to speak plainer. ‘Did you injure yourself?’ These four words are even harder. Part of her hates herself for even contemplating it, but even she cannot argue with the evidence of her own eyes. Milah is a practical woman, not the kind at all to hide from the truth, ugly though it may be.

There is something in his eyes, a flash of alarm, panic maybe. It is gone again before she can determine what it was. _God, no_.

‘So that you wouldn’t have to fight, so that you would be sent home?’ she urges when no verbal reply is forthcoming.

He demands to know who told her that and that reply is just wrong on so many levels. Rumplestiltskin never demanded anything. But he’s defensive now, as if he expects trouble. It is not the righteous indignity Milah has been hoping for.

 _Please tell me you didn’t_. But the phrase is meaningless now. She knows something is not the way it should be. War changes people, some are changed beyond recognition. In some it brings out the best, in some the worst. All of a sudden Milah is quite certain in which category Rumplestiltskin belongs.

‘Everyone,’ she says. ‘Rumours travel quickly from the front.’ And apparently some of them are true. But he still hasn’t given her a straight answer and so she asks her first question again, more forcefully this time, willing him to give answer. She finds she’s almost screaming now, and she’s woken Baelfire, who begins to fuss in her arms. But this time not even her son is enough to distract her and to cool her temper.

And he does answer. But not in the way she hoped for. ‘Yes.’

And just like that, her whole world collapses. He did it. The people were right about him all along. It’s like being punched in the gut all over again.

 _After all that I’ve defended you, you do this!_ It’s hard to breathe, it’s hard to think. Milah’s mind is still reeling. _How could you? How could you?_ It’s the one question in her mind.

‘A seer told me I was going to die in the battle,’ Rumple explains.

That’s it, the final straw. ‘You did this because a _seer_ told you to do it?’ Incredulity is probably all too obvious in her voice, as is the contempt she feels. Since when does Rumplestiltskin hold with anything like that? Every child knows the stories about seers, that their prophecies are never to be taken at face value, that there’s always some hidden meaning that can’t be deciphered by mere mortals. And seers were never quite that plain in their words. And he had taken a seer’s word for what was going to happen? _How could you?_

‘She was right about everything else.’ Rumple appears to be pleading with her, begging her to understand what he had done, but she can’t. When he left, she had truly believed that he would not prove to be a coward. Her heart had been filled with dread for what she believed to be his impending demise, but that this was what would happen, she would have never dared to think.

She had asked him to come back home. Be careful what you wish for. It’s one of those things that all parents tell their children. Be especially careful what you wish for when there are magical creatures around that could grant your wish. Milah doesn’t know that a magical creature has anything to do with this situation, but her wish has surely come back to bite her. _This is not how it was meant to be._

‘I left the front to be with you, you and Baelfire!’ Rumple is still at it, but his words of affection are too little and too late. Does he even know what he has done to them, to all of them? Everyone knows what he has done, and Milah and Baelfire will suffer by association. They are the family of the village coward. Rumple’s father was a coward, Rumple is a coward and so it stands to reason that his son will be no different. Because that is how the people are going to look at them.

When Milah looks at the future, she only sees misery. _What have you done?_

‘You left because you were afraid.’ Some seer told him the future, struck him with fear and made him do whatever he could to avoid that fate. She knows Rumple – at least she thinks she does – and she can see how this must have played out. And after all those cautionary tales about seers, he still fell for their words. It makes her angrier than she has been in a very long time.

Does she even know this man? She remembers what she once told her father. _Rumple is gentle. He works hard. He doesn’t get drunk. He isn’t violent_. And all of that is still true for the man on the chair. But he is too gentle, too opposed to violence. _All the makings of a coward._ His qualities may be strengths in time of peace, but this is a time of war and he has effectively doomed them all by just being who he is. And, to her own shock, she hates him for that.

The anger goes into her words as she accuses him. ‘You became what everyone thought you were: a coward! Just like your father!’ She can see her words are hurting him, but she is too hurt herself to care about him. The anger rules supreme.

‘I am nothing like my father!’ Rumple is up on his feet, feverish gleam increasing in tenfold.

_I beg to differ._

‘He tried to abandon me. I will never ever do that to my son!’ If anything, he seems to mean it.

 _It might have been better for him if you did_. That is a harsh truth, but a truth all the same. In a fairer world, men might be applauded for wanting to be with their family, but this world isn’t fair by any stretch of the imagination. In this world a man is expected to fight, to win the battle. And if that cannot be achieved, he’ll have to be dead or severely injured in order to be sent home. Rumple is injured beyond a doubt, but not honourably, not in battle. Milah can hear Wilma’s words echoing in her head. _Some men return with honour, others don’t._

She can only listen at his attempts to justify himself, claiming that he has done what he did for their son. All for the boy, indeed. The worst part of it is that she understands on some level. Rumple’s childhood has not been easy. His father left him – that is common knowledge around here – and it has haunted him every day. It’s understandable that he wants his own son to have his father around growing up.

But other than that, the situations are nothing alike. Rumple’s father just left him because he felt like it. If Rumple had died in the war, Baelfire would be seen as the son of a war hero. And there are worse fates on this earth. But now Rumple has only ensured that he will be shunned all his life because of his father’s crimes and how can he not see that? After all these years, does he still not know what life here is like? Has he always been this naïve?

‘You sentence him to a fate much worse,’ she says, dread trying to overtake her. What kind of life will Baelfire, will they, ever have here now? But her husband still can’t see it, so she clarifies: ‘Growing up as _your_ son.’

‘What else could I do?’ Rumplestiltskin asks. There’s genuine confusion on his face and from his tone it is clear that he thinks this a rhetorical question.

And maybe this is what she has been waiting for. Milah is furious. ‘You could have fought, Rumple!’ she snaps. ‘You could have _died_!’ She would have mourned him then, would have missed him. Right now, she honestly doesn’t know what to do, what to think. Her life is built on shifting sands again, the very thing she thought she had avoided when she married him. Rumple is safe, after all. Now she only scoffs at her own foolishness.

‘You don’t mean that.’ A plea for denial.

 _Don’t I?_ Milah doesn’t know. She doesn’t know anything anymore and suddenly it’s all too much. She needs to get out of here. She needs to get out of here right now. It’s too much to even look at him, this man who is supposed to be her husband, but who she doesn’t know anymore. She can’t bear it.

 _You’ve doomed us_. They won’t die because of this. Instead, Rumple may have well condemned them to a fate worse than death and he can’t even see it. She needs to get out of here; she can’t breathe.

 _Here’s the son you wanted_ , she means to say as she hands Baelfire to his cowardly father, but she doesn’t trust her voice. Her eyes are burning, but she’ll be damned before she lets him see her cry. Not here. And so she grabs the bucket next to the door under the pretence of fetching water from the well. The irony that it was a bucket of water that brought them together in the first place is not lost on her. Now she actually wants to drop water over his head in the hope that it will wake him up, will make him understand what he did.

Milah has no intention of actually going to the well. She just needs a place where she can be alone, away from prying eyes and judgemental minds. Rumple has made sure that she will have to endure those for the rest of her days, but she won’t face them sooner than she has to. And she needs to be alone.

So instead of going to the well, she makes for the woods instead. There are generally no dangerous beasts this close to the village itself, so Milah is fairly certain that she won’t be attacked. A small voice in her head comments bitterly that being eaten by wolves might be preferable over going back to that life that can’t possibly hold any allure after tonight.

It’s that thought that finally breaks her up. She sinks down onto the ground, throwing the bucket aside as she curls up and wraps her arms around her knees. The sobs shake her body, but Milah can’t bring herself to care. She weeps, but for what exactly, she cannot say.

_What am I going to do?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be a one-shot, but it got longer than I expected, so I’m chopping it into two pieces. The next instalment will be up soon.  
> Thank you for reading. If you’ve got a minute, a review would be very much appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

As it turns out, she returns home, because where else can she go? Life goes on as it always has. Well, mostly it goes on as it always has. Rumple takes up spinning again, something he can actually do with one good foot. Milah mends, cooks and cleans. She takes care of Baelfire and she goes to the market. She is better suited to; she’ll get her purchases faster and cheaper, and it has the added bonus that she isn’t pelted with rotten fruit, so very unlike her husband.

Because that is what has changed. The people of this village are treating Rumplestiltskin like a stain on their community, and Milah is not so certain that they are wrong about that. They are being avoided, as if cowardice is a contagious disease like the plague. They are basically shunned. Old friends pretend like they do not exist at all. And it is bad for business too. The little luxuries they sometimes had before Rumple went off to, as it turned out, _not_ fight in the Ogre’s War are a thing of the past, and it is hard enough putting enough food on the table for three people. Baelfire has a healthy appetite and he doesn’t understand why people don’t come to them when it is so obvious that his papa does the best job. He’s too young to understand that no one wants anything to do with such a coward as Rumplestiltskin is unless there is no other choice, so she tells him it’s because people are fools. She keeps her real opinion to herself, that if the roles were reversed, she would never willingly seek out such a man to do a job for her either.

So yes, much is the same, but the contentment has gone out of her life. Everything has turned sour. Rumple is still himself, even more so now that there is no question that he will ever be called to the front again. _Rumple is gentle. He works hard. He doesn’t get drunk. He isn’t violent._ It is all still true. But the events of the past and the attitude of the villagers in the present put a huge strain on their marriage. The love has gone out of it and intimacy has disappeared along with it. Milah finds it hard to even look at him these days. If only he would admit that he was wrong, that he should never have injured himself to escape battle, then she would find it easier to live with him. As it is, he is wholly unremorseful.

Baelfire – or Bae; Rumple’s shortening of the boy’s name has stuck and he answers to little else – is really her only reason to get out of bed in the morning. He needs her and it is good to be needed by at least one other person. It is clear that Rumple thinks he needs her too, but she is blind and deaf to his pleas. She blames him for the hell their lives have become and knows that she has every right to think like that.

‘We should leave,’ she says one night after Baelfire has gone to sleep. Rumple is spinning – he claims it calms his mind – and Milah is sewing a new tunic. Bae is four years old and he is growing almost faster than she can make clothes to fit him.

Rumple looks up. ‘What do you mean?’

‘We should sell the cottage and move away,’ she clarifies. ‘To another land, where we can start over.’

The idea has been on her mind for quite some time now. It’s the only way they can ever have something resembling a normal life again. They should go somewhere where no one has ever heard of them, where the Ogre’s War is just a tale to frighten children and where no one cares what has happened in their pasts. They could say that Rumple was injured in battle – as by all rights he should have been – or that he was run over by a carriage or trampled on by a horse. It doesn’t really matter which tale they’ll tell, as long as it is not the truth.

Rumple smiles the smile she once fell for when she properly met him for the first time, but it has lost its charm in the light of what has happened. Neither does the once so adorable not-quite stammer endear her to him any longer. Once upon a time those were his strengths, but now they are only weaknesses, proof that he was not strong enough to do what needed doing.

‘Why would we do that?’ he asks. ‘Our life is here.’

‘What life?’ she questions. ‘The village coward and his wife, that’s what we are. If we left, we could be anything we wanted to be.’

The possibilities are endless. They could get quite some distance with the money they’d get for the cottage if they are careful. Even living on the road might be better than this. Of course, it would be hard work to build up their lives from scratch, but neither of them are strangers to toil. They could make it work.

And maybe, just maybe, then she would be able to find it in herself to pick up the threads of their marriage, because Milah knows full well that such a thing will not happen here. Guilty by association is the rule here and both that knowledge and her disgust for Rumple’s actions have made her keep her distance from the man she once loved. At least the former will no longer play a part if only they could go and live elsewhere, far away from this place. And if their life there will be good, she might even forgive him for his cowardice in time.

But the expression on Rumple’s face tells her that her dreams are just that, dreams. ‘We can’t leave, Milah. We do not have the money.’ He smiles ruefully. ‘And I can’t travel well.’

_And whose fault is that?_

She pushes her hair out of her face. ‘Never mind,’ she mutters. ‘Forget I mentioned it.’ She puts her sewing away and heads for the door. ‘I am going to fetch some water for tea.’

She is, but not because she wants the tea so badly that she needs to go out after dark, into the cold. But she needs to get some air. Well, if she is really truthful, then she would have to admit that she is mainly going out because she won’t be able to hide her frustration and disappointment.

Milah knows full well that going away is not the answer to all of their problems, but it would at least be a start, a second chance, and that is more than they have had in the past four years. But Rumple is scared, too afraid to leave behind what he knows and exchange it for the great unknown. What he knows is safe and the unknown holds untold dangers. And of course he doesn’t want to risk Bae. _All for the boy_. Milah snorts at the memory.

The thing is that once she might have agreed with Rumple. She chose him for a husband because he was safe, because he did not court danger like many others of his age. But then, once safe was an advantage. Now it is only holding them back, trapping them in this village that wants nothing to do with them.

Milah remembers the time when a travelling merchant came to the village when she was a little girl. She remembers spending hours at his stall, eyeing all the exotic wares he brought with him. But the one thing that really caught her eye was a miniature ship in a bottle. The ship was carved from wood in fine detail, a true masterpiece, but that was not what had caught her attention.

‘How did it get in the bottle?’ she asked.

The merchant had only smiled. ‘Ah, lassie, wouldn’t you like to know?’ She had never gotten any other answer from him.

 _I have become the ship in the bottle_ , Milah realises. And it is only now that she knows she had asked the wrong question all those years ago. She shouldn’t have asked how it got in, she should have asked how it got out.

* * *

 

The answer keeps eluding her in the years that follow and life goes on, but Milah finds that as the years drag on – and that is exactly how it feels to her – matters only get worse, or maybe that is just how it feels to her. It is the same old life, but the neighbours’ insults – both outright and implied – are getting harder to shake off. They are weighing her down, weighing them all down.

And still Rumple will not hear of leaving, not even now Bae is old enough to be told that he is the son of a coward – the question ‘Mama, what is a coward?’ has had Milah’s blood boiling, and to her shame she directed her son to his father for an answer while she went to give the cursed Wilma woman a piece of her mind – and to know how his father’s actions are affecting their family.

It makes Milah want to scream. She wants to get away from here so badly, but she is trapped here. Women don’t run away. They might as well have built a wall around the village to contain her. At least if there had been a wall, she could have tried to climb over, dig a tunnel underneath or beat her hands bloody against it. As it is, the invisible wall and the ties that bind her to this place do as good a job of it as any physical wall.

The feeling that she wants, no, _needs_ to escape is growing by the day and every now and then she catches herself casting longing glances at the ships in the harbour. It’s just a small port, and there aren’t that many ships. Most of the vessels that are docked here belong to local fishermen, but every now and then a ship comes from a far-off place.  
It’s one of those days when Milah passes the harbour on some errand. There’s a large ship in the harbour and the rather exotic-looking crew is disembarking, making for the local tavern. Her curiosity is awakened, she does have an hour or so to spare, and before her common sense can get the better of her, she slips inside to listen to the tales they bring with them.

The one hour becomes two hours, becomes three, becomes four and all of a sudden it is dark, the tavern is closing and Milah realises she hasn’t had such a good time in years. She can’t even remember the last time she laughed and it feels _good_. For just a couple of hours she hasn’t been thinking about the burden that her life has become. She’s been swept away to lands she’s never even heard of, has lost herself in the stories. For just one night, she wasn’t tied to a life she no longer wants.

And it is liberating.

It is the beginning of a habit. As soon as a foreign vessel docks, Milah steals off to the tavern to listen to the sailors’ stories about faraway places and adventures on the seas. She reads Rumple’s disapproval in his eyes and the set of his mouth. Now and then he even goes as far as to speak soft words, reminding her that she cannot just leave on a whim, that she has duties at home. Milah pretends she doesn’t hear and goes regardless. It is not as if Rumple is in any position to lecture anyone on the subject of duties. Besides, she doesn’t have much in this life – and is unlikely to ever have much – so she will not let this one thing be taken away from her.

And it is not as if she is needed at home. Bae, to her absolute dismay, turns into quite the daddy’s boy, doting upon Rumple’s every word, following him around like a lost little puppy. He’s a shy boy, with wide eyes and a smile that is utterly disarming. It reminds her of Rumple, and she wishes that he would not take after him so much. Goodness knows, it will only make his life harder in this place.

The more she tries to tell him this, though, the more he gravitates towards his father. He goes to Rumple when he falls and scrapes his knees, he goes to Rumple when he has had a run-in with the village’s bullies, he goes to Rumple after he’s had a nightmare. She is losing her son to the man she has come to despise over the last couple of years, and it _hurts_. He doesn’t need her anymore.

Some mothers may have taken that as a challenge and goodness knows that Milah is usually not one for backing down from one, but this is one battle she knows she’ll lose. No, past tense. She’s already lost it. Is there not one single thing that is going to be left to her?

_Damn you, Rumple. Damn you and your cowardice._

* * *

 

It’s mere days after this realisation has made itself known to Milah that another ship docks in their little corner of the world. Milah catches sight of it when she walks past the harbour on her way to the market. It’s a colourful ship, well-kept, but not sailing under any flag she recognises. And with a couple of years listening to the sailors’ stories under her belt, that is saying something. In fact, she can’t spot a flag at all. And as far as she is aware, there’s only one type of sailors that don’t fly the colours of their land.

Pirates.

The first thing she wants to do is to run and make sure they can’t get to her and hers. Pirates are not exactly known for their good intentions when they come to any sort of town and their presence here can only be bad news.

She’s already half-turned when she realises that, if this is indeed a raid, matters are rather quiet around here. If truth be told, it seems as if everyone is just going about their business as usual, no signs of alarm or terrified screams anywhere. There’s only one conclusion to be drawn from that: this is not a raid. These pirates, if that is indeed what they are, have just come here for supplies and a visit to the tavern.

Normally she would not have hesitated to go in and hear all there is to hear, but she thinks she can be forgiven for being a bit hesitant before she goes anywhere near pirates. She’s heard enough about their lot to have developed some healthy wariness for them. But then, they’re not here to raid the town – unless of course they are planning to do it when everyone is asleep, but then, why get drunk in the tavern first? – so what harm is there in going inside and seeing it all for herself? And it is for sure that a pirate will have many a story to tell. She could do with one of those right about now.

In the end her curiosity wins out. That, and the prospect of having to barter at the market otherwise. She’s had more than her fair share of insults this morning already with the wife of one of Rumple’s customers. Insult had followed insult – and although it was clearly meant to be subtle, the woman has still a lot to learn in that area – and it had cost Milah all the self-control she possessed to keep smiling and to keep several scathing retorts safely behind her teeth. They need the customers and so they have to swallow their pride – whatever little is left of it these days – in order to keep themselves fed.

Her mind made up, she makes for the door. It can’t hurt to slip inside and keep in the background until she is certain that no one is going to harm her. If she stays near the door, she’ll be out in no time if trouble presents itself.

The tavern is as noisy as ever, maybe even more so now that there are so many people squeezed inside. The crew of the colourful ship is a large one, and they seemingly have all come here to unwind after long months at sea. They are a raggedy bunch, some just as colourful as the ship they sail, speaking in strange accents, but otherwise just your average sailors. All things considered, they are surprisingly ordinary.

She does a step back as one of the patrons passes on his way to the door. But instead of empty space, she steps on someone’s toes.

‘I don’t know you yet, but you’re making quite the impression on my feet,’ a male voice says with a hint of amusement to his tone.

Milah swivels around to see the man whose toes have made her acquaintance. He must have been just behind her when she came in if he is where he is now, but she never saw him. But here he is, all dressed in black and cloaked in an easy confidence that comes with being used to getting whatever he wants. The winning smile just tops it off. There is something in his attitude that screams danger to Milah.

‘Killian Jones, at your service, milady.’ The smile turns to something more resembling a smirk as he takes her hand, lifts it and presses a kiss on it, as if he were a prince and she a princess and they are at some royal ball rather than in a noisy tavern.

‘Apologies for stepping on your toes.’ Something about him both unnerves her and draws her in. He is obviously dangerous and with those pirates she can see sitting a small distance away; he’s surely not a local.

‘Leaving so soon?’ he inquires when she makes to get some distance between them.

‘Why?’ she counters. ‘Want me to step on your toes again?’ One of these days her tongue is going to get her into serious trouble. But she has been biting her tongue too much today already, struggling to keep all those insults she so badly wants to throw out to herself. There’s only so much self-control she possesses and this is not a customer.

‘Why, I was hoping you’d let me buy you a drink.’ He’s leaning against the doorpost, unleashing all of his charm on her. He’s flirting with her.

Milah is no stranger to flirtations, but it has been a long time since anyone directed it all at her. But yes, there had been other boys vying for her hand before she married Rumplestiltskin. Of course, positive attention has been few and far in between since Rumple came home, and most of the sailors she converses with in this place are quickly informed that she is married to the greatest coward in the land. That makes them think twice about any romantic intentions they might have towards her. This pirate clearly has not been clued in yet.

Strangely enough she is not all that eager to change that quite yet. Still, the wariness of pirates is persistent, and this does not seem like the kind of man you can trust just like that. And Milah has been opting on safe rather than danger for too long to not have some urge to get out of this situation.

 _Yes, and see where safe has gotten you_.

She swallows. There are so many reasons why she should get out of here right now. She is married, she has a son at home, duties to attend. Getting involved with this man is a risk, something she has tried to avoid all her life. At the same time she has also been frequenting this tavern wishing for stories, for something to take her mind off her life. She has been longing for distant places, wishing to leave.

Maybe, deep down, danger is what she has been yearning for all these years and she just never realised.

And it is not as if one drink will kill her. She can go home after this and forget all about this Killian Jones and his charm.

‘I might let you,’ she says. Her heart is beating faster. Milah is not even all that certain it’s all nerves.

He comes closer in a way that is certainly inappropriate. ‘If you’ll just tell me your name.’

‘Milah,’ she says.

‘Milah,’ the pirate repeats as though he is tasting her name on his tongue. ‘A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.’

‘Your flirting isn’t half as good as you clearly think it is,’ Milah retorts. She won’t admit to being flattered to get this kind of attention from him. Killian Jones is quite handsome and could possibly get every single girl in this bar if he was so inclined, but he is talking to _her_.

 _You’re just the first one he ran into_ , she knows rationally. Nevertheless, she’s still feeling flattered. It’s not as if she’s planning on letting this flirting go anywhere. It’s harmless.

‘Well then, love, will you let me apologise by buying you a drink?’ He offers his arm for her to take.

‘I thought I stepped on your toes, Mr Jones, not the other way around,’ she points out.

‘Captain,’ he corrects. ‘And it’s the gentleman who should buy the lady a drink. It’s bad form to make a lady pay.’

A pirate captain with manners, then. She’s never heard about any of those. ‘Playing at being a gentleman, are you?’

The smile increases. ‘One thing you need to know about me, milady: I’m always a gentleman.’

He aims to prove it, clearly, holding out her chair, buying her a drink and engaging her in conversation with some of his crew members. They are quite happy to quench her thirst for stories of adventures. It doesn’t take her long to lose all track of time and the number of drinks she downs. The drinks loosen her tongue and effectively end any self-control that she had left. Not that it takes much; she isn’t used to this, never had any money to afford these things.

And she finds she’s enjoying herself, more than she thought she would. At some point one of the pirates suggests a game of dice and Milah, although never one for such pursuits – because where would she ever find the time for them? – agrees to let them teach her the rules. They are easy enough, and the game is relatively simple. Still, she suspects foul play when she immediately wins the first game.

‘Are you letting me win?’ she inquires.

The captain hands her earrings that look like they are worth all the money she could earn in a year. ‘Won fair and square, my Lady Milah.’

‘Bad form to let a lady lose, is it?’ she jests, but she wears them all the same. If only she could get her hands on a mirror somewhere; she’d like to see how they look on her before she sells them. Because she can’t keep this; this could keep her family going for quite some time to come. And they need the money badly. But she can keep them for at least one night and feel beautiful wearing them.

‘Especially if the lady is as beautiful as yourself,’ Killian Jones confirms.

‘Don’t let my husband hear you,’ Milah snorts. Then her mind catches up with her mouth and she curses the effect all this ale is having on her. Damn it, if anything kills the mood, it’s that. Even though she rationally knows that he can’t possibly think a woman of her age unattached, she would have preferred not to talk about this. It defeats the whole purpose of coming here in the first place.

He arches an eyebrow. ‘Husband?’ Maybe she’s just flattering herself now, but he almost sounds disappointed. Strangely enough, the sentiment is reciprocated. And that is decidedly not a very good thing for a married woman to feel.

‘Oh, just the village coward,’ she says dismissively and damn, that was supposed to stay out of this conversation as well. She should stop drinking to prevent any more of these outbursts. On the other hand, she will need a few more drinks if she is to forget this embarrassment. ‘Very little man, not worth your time.’ Yes, the embarrassment wins out and she swallows the contents of another tankard.

Jones arches another eyebrow at her. ‘Or yours?’

There is that small remnant of conscience trying to tell her that this is enough, that she’s had her fun and that this is a line that she does not want to cross. _Oh really, don’t I?_ It’s not as if her marriage is more than a long-term farce nowadays and she likes it here. She’s having a good time in surprisingly pleasant company.

‘Or mine,’ she agrees. She’s experiencing something she hasn’t felt before: recklessness. And Milah surrenders to it willingly.

And just like that, the tension leaves the air and they pick up where they left off.

Until…

‘Milah.’

She is snapped back to reality as soon as she hears that familiar voice. The tavern falls silent and the tension returns. Rumple is standing in front of her table, embarrassment written all over his face, sending a pleading glance her way. He’s ill at ease; the tavern is not a place he would ever willingly enter, which is why it is so perfect for her outings. He has never followed her here before and she is furious with him for doing so now. This is her place, the one place where she does not need to think about the mess of her life and now he has brought it right here.

‘It’s time to go home,’ he tells her in that soft voice of his, because Rumple won’t ever raise his voice. He’s too gentle for that.

The drink has made her bolder than she usually is. ‘Good,’ she says, pouring herself another drink. ‘So go.’ _And don’t you ever show your face here again_. She could die of embarrassment; her cheeks are flushed as she almost wills him out of the place.

‘Who’s this?’ Killian – sometime between her winning the earrings and now he has become Killian rather than Jones, although she can’t pinpoint when exactly this happened, possibly around the time she’s won the necklace – asks.

‘Oh, that’s no one,’ she replies as dismissively as she possibly can. She refuses to look up and see his face. ‘Just my husband.’ It’s the kind of thing she wouldn’t even dream of saying if she is sober. That’s not to say that she wouldn’t think it then, but there is a difference between thinking and talking.

The captain doesn’t look alarmed in the slightest. ‘Oh. Well, he’s a tad taller than you described.’ His words are met by roaring laughter from his crew.

‘Please,’ Rumple begs. ‘You have responsibilities.’

 _That’s rich, coming from you_. ‘You mean like being a man and fighting in the Ogre Wars?’ she mocks. He is the last person in the world with a right to tell her what her responsibilities are. He can’t even fulfil his own. ‘Other wives at least became honoured widows, while I? Oh, I just became lashed to the village coward.’ The words are hard and sarcastic and they come spilling out of her mouth as if she’s actually intended to say them all along, when last she checked, she never meant for any of those things to be translated into the spoken word. Damn the ale, the rum and whatever it is she drank tonight. ‘I need a break. So why don’t you go and run home, Rumple? It’s what you’re good at, after all.’

All for the boy. Of course, everything for the boy. And yet he still can’t see that because of that they are where they are today.

Speaking of which. ‘Mama?’

Milah’s heart stops. Oh no, he didn’t. The bastard, he didn’t! But oh yes, he did, because there is Baelfire, wide eyes staring at her in something akin to disbelief. As he stands there, he looks utterly innocent, tired and vulnerable, and all of a sudden it doesn’t matter how much she drank, because she is as sober as can be.

And then the guilt washes over her. She came to this place to forget her woes, and forgotten them she has. But in the process she has also completely forgotten that Bae would be home on his own for most of the day, and he is not nearly old enough for that.

_What sort of mother does that make of me?_

It’s clearly not a very good one and the guilt urges her to get up and usher Bae out of this place. She doesn’t dare look at Killian as she leaves, too ashamed of herself and her actions that are surely not befitting a married woman and mother of a son.

The sooner this is forgotten, the better it will be for all of them.

* * *

 

But it is not so easily forgotten. Ashamed though she might be, the memories keep replaying in Milah’s mind during the walk home, as she puts Baelfire to bed and as she turns in for the night, lying in the middle of the bed. Hopefully Rumple will understand the message that she does not want him in it with her tonight. She’s too angry to tolerate his presence right now.

The cottage is silent, such a sharp contrast with the tavern. And in the silence she remembers how much she enjoyed her time there, how much she enjoyed the company of the pirates and, yes, Killian’s in particular. It’s like she’s been given a taste of a life that she will never have, will never be allowed to have, but she wants it. She wants it so badly.

The strength of the feeling leaves her surprised and somewhat scared. Maybe she just wants it because it promises to be everything that her current life isn’t and she is so tired of it. It takes more effort to get out of bed every morning, such an amount of willpower to go out there and face her neighbours. Once upon a time she chose safety over everything else. Now she just wants something that is everything she has now is not.

‘You don’t really wish I’d died, do you?’ Rumple is seated in front of the fire, making her a cup of tea. It only increases her sense of guilt, because he has never stopped doing her these small kindnesses. It reminds her of years ago, when they were only just married and her life was as close to perfect as it could be in this small village. Has he ever stopped loving her the way she has stopped loving him long ago? She somehow doubts it. As if she wasn’t feeling guilty enough already.

Milah searches her own mind and then answers truthfully. ‘I wish you’d fought.’ Her life would have been so much easier then. He might still have died if he fought, he might still have gotten injured, but then he would have been a war hero. Their lives could have been so different. But no, she does not wish death upon him. She’s loved him once, and had this war not come to their doorstep, she would have willingly and happily grown old with him. ‘Don’t you?’ she asks.

What follows is the usual excuse of him being alive and with her and Bae.

So she tells him what she has told him so many times before, that this is not a life. Not for her, not for him, not for Baelfire. This is becoming a burden, more so with every year that passes. And she only wants to go away, to start over somewhere else. She’s tasted it today, and it only increased her longing to leave this place and start over elsewhere. And before she’s thought about it, she voices it again. ‘Why can’t we just leave?’ Milah won’t go as far as to say that she is begging for it, but it certainly comes close.

‘We’ve talked about it.’ As dismissals go with Rumple, this one is one of his most forceful ones. She can see the panic in his eyes at the mere thought of going away.

And he still can’t see what good it would be for them? ‘You don’t have to be the village coward.’ Oh, if only she could bang his head against the wall to knock some sense into it. If that would work, she would have done it long ago. She lists all the benefits of going away: starting over, going to a place where no one knows who they are, seeing the whole world.

She stops there. That last one is new, and Milah can’t even quite figure how seeing the world has made it to her little list. Well, she knows how. Killian Jones and his pirate crew, their stories about their lives, their adventures. It has kindled a longing for something other than this life, something that the stories of the other visiting sailors – intriguing though they were – have never done for her.

‘I know this wasn’t the life you wanted,’ Rumple admits, and it’s as close to acknowledging his mistakes as he has ever come.

No, this is not the life she chose. She chose security, a good life. She didn’t choose being ridiculed by her neighbours, she didn’t choose a life of poverty, of all but begging for work. She certainly didn’t choose to have a coward for a husband.

‘But it can be good, here.’ Of course Rumple’s almost confession is followed by his insistence that they won’t go anywhere and it sets Milah’s teeth on edge. He won’t leave, and because he won’t leave, that means that Milah and Bae are stuck here with him. ‘At least try.’ And now he’s begging. ‘If not for me, then for Bae.’

Her own failure to be a good mother to her son still fresh in her mind, she promises to at least try, just as she’s promised so many times before. And she has tried, she really has. But she just can’t do it anymore. She’s restless, wishing she could just break free of this life and make herself another. Because she means what she said: this is no kind of life, not for her, not for anyone.

_I can’t do this anymore._

It’s the truth, but what can she do about it? It’s not as if a woman and a young boy can run away on their own. Baelfire wouldn’t even want it, she knows. Rumple is his hero, no matter how ill-suited he is for the job. He won’t want to leave his beloved papa behind, can’t see that they would both be better off without him.

_I can’t do this anymore._

But it is not as if she can just declare her marriage over. It does not work like that in this society. People mean it when they promise to uphold their marriage vows till death do them part.

 _Till death do us part_.

In a flash of genius it suddenly becomes clear to Milah what she has to do.

 _I have to die_.

* * *

 

Milah remembers Killian mentioning that he and his crew will be in town for a couple of days before they’ll leave again, and so she makes a slight detour to the docks after her trip to the market two days later. It’s still early morning, Milah’s favourite time of day, because there are not that many people out and about yet. Of course it is full well possible that the captain she needs to speak to is still sleeping off the effects of too much rum, but it is worth the try.

As it happens, Milah is in luck. She all but bumps into him – and they really have to stop meeting like this – on the street leading to the docks themselves.

‘Whoa there!’ he exclaims when he almost sends her sprawling. He reaches out to steady her and then retrieves her purchases from the ground. Milah is unpleasantly reminded of her first meeting with Rumplestiltskin. ‘Where is such a beautiful lady off to in such a hurry?’ he inquires when he hands her back her things.

‘I need to talk to you,’ she announces, and the nerves are tying her stomach into knots. _This is a bad idea_ , her common sense tells her, but she is quick to remind herself of the alternative, of what would happen if she doesn’t do this. And she can’t live that life anymore.

If the pirate is surprised at this, he doesn’t show it. ‘I’m all ears, love.’

Now for the hardest part. ‘I need you to kidnap me.’

It’s just five words, but they leave Killian Jones absolutely flabbergasted. His face is completely unreadable for a few seconds. For the life of her, she cannot tell what he is thinking now.

And that makes her want to run and forget that she ever thought about this in the first place. He’s going to turn her down, of course he’s going to turn her down. He doesn’t need what she can offer and he probably doesn’t need a woman on his ship.

Eventually, the smile comes back out. ‘Far be it from me to stay away from a beautiful woman,’ he says. ‘But I am not in the habit of kidnapping them.’ Given his self-proclaimed reputation as a gentleman, Milah finds that she does not really doubt him there. ‘Attacking and plundering ships is more my area of expertise.’

‘I don’t need you to really kidnap me,’ Milah explains. She’s started now, so she will not back out. ‘I need you to make it look like you’ve kidnapped me.’ When this only earns her an arched eyebrow, a silent request to elaborate, she continues: ‘I need to get away from my husband and I can’t do it on my own.’

There, she’s said it. It has an air of finality to it. And Milah finds that there is quite the difference between wishing for another life away from Rumple and actually taking steps to ensure such a future. Part of her is afraid to leave behind everything she knows and entrust her fate to pirates, but anything is better than the life she has here, and so she stands her ground. The choice is made now, and Milah is not one for backing down. She never has been.

‘The village coward,’ he remembers.

‘Indeed.’ She swallows. ‘Will you do it?’

He leans forward and it is really quite too close for comfort. ‘I might. For the right price.’ That look in his eyes and the suggestiveness in his tone make it quite clear what kind of price it is that he has in mind.

And she won’t go there. She’s had two days to think about this plan and she’s accepted the fact that she’ll become an unfaithful wife, but she will not become a whore. She has some dignity left.

So instead she reaches into her purse and pulls out the earrings she’s won in that card game. ‘I can pay.’ She’s withholding the necklace for the moment. If he ups the price, she can up her offer. It’ll leave her some room to barter. And truth be told, she doesn’t really want to use it to buy her passage. Goodness knows she’ll need the money it will give her to start a new life in another land.

Killian Jones throws his head back and roars with laughter. ‘You’re trying to sell me back my own treasure?’

‘Not yours. Mine,’ Milah corrects. ‘I won it “fair and square.”’ It’s a bold move, a very bold move, and she can only hope that it will pay off. She is desperate, but not quite so desperate that she is willing to pay the price he is thinking of. Besides, she is counting on his gentlemanly side to accept that she is not that kind of woman.

The amusement does not leave his face. ‘You’d make a good pirate, love.’ Milah likes to think he means this as a compliment.

And she can’t quite stop the hope that is building inside. ‘Does that mean you’ll take the offer?’ He hasn’t turned it down so far, so maybe he is at least considering it.

But he is so hard to read. That amusement and charm of his are like a mask she cannot possibly see through. ‘It depends,’ he says.

‘On what?’ She doesn’t like the sound of this.

‘What you want to happen after your “abduction.”’ He’s really far too relaxed for her tastes, and then, why wouldn’t he be? He’s holding all the cards and she’ll have to give him what he wants if she’s to make this bargain. He knows this, and he knows that she knows it too.

But she has come too far now to call it off. Besides, when is a chance like this ever going to present itself again? ‘Passage to a safe land for me and my son, far away from the Ogre Wars.’ Because she really doesn’t want Baelfire anywhere near those beasts. He isn’t fit to fight any more than Rumple is and was. He is his father’s son in that. In that, and in so many other aspects.

The silence that falls after her demands makes her skin crawl. He’s doing it to taunt her, Milah’s sure. ‘Fair enough,’ he agrees in the end. ‘But I won’t take a child aboard my ship.’

Her heart sinks. No, he can’t mean that, can he? ‘You want me to leave him behind?’

‘A pirate’s ship is no place for a child, lass.’ He sounds almost sympathetic. ‘And from what I’ve seen of your boy, I don’t think he’d be very safe.’

Milah narrows her eyes at him. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

‘We’re pirates,’ he says, spreading his hands as if it is all very self-explanatory. ‘We get into fights. Men get injured. Some die. That’s no place for a lad of his age.’

‘But it is for a woman?’ she questions.

Killian Jones only shrugs. ‘You made the choice to come and that’s your business. If the lad were older, and he wanted it, I’d give him a place among my men, but he’s too young now. So maybe you want me to come back in a couple of years?’ The bastard, he’s actually making it sound as if this is the honourable thing to do.

‘No.’ The word is out of her mouth before she has thought about it properly, but she means it; she can’t bear this life any longer, not even for a day, not when she has that new life within her grasp. Such an opportunity will not come again. If she wants this, she has to take her chance now.

But leaving Baelfire behind, it makes her almost want to turn back and forget that she ever conceived this scheme to begin with. What kind of mother leaves her child behind? Only the very worst sort, she is sure, and Milah likes to think that she is better than that. She feels torn in half, one part being pulled back to Bae, another pulled towards the ship that will take her far away from here.

Leaving Baelfire behind? Can she really do that if it is the price she has to pay for a better life? The frightening and quite alarming answer in her mind is yes. Because Bae won’t want to leave. He wants to stay with his father. He never even seeks her out these days, or not very much at least. And after last night, goodness knows what he thinks of her.  
But he is still her son and she loves him. And leaving him here would break her heart. But staying here would kill her. All these years she’s been trying for his sake to survive here, but she’s like a wilting flower. She can’t thrive, she can’t grow, she can’t live. These last years have been about survival, not life.

‘You’ll take my offer, then?’ the captain asks.

She doesn’t allow herself to think about it any longer. ‘Yes.’ It matters not. She still has the necklace, and she knows how to save money. In a few years she’ll come back here and take him away. And in the meantime Rumple will look after their son. It’s the only thing in this world that she trusts him to do these days: caring for Bae. He’s always been better at that than she ever was.

All for the boy.

Killian holds out his hand for her to shake. ‘Then you’ve got yourself a deal, milady.’ When she takes the proffered hand, he adds: ‘Make sure you’re in this street tomorrow a few hours after sunrise, when there are people about to witness our little show.’

‘I’ll be there,’ she promises.

He lets go and holds out his hand as if he expects her to drop something in it. ‘My payment?’

Instead of giving him the earrings he’s clearly set his sights on, Milah puts them back in her purse. ‘You’ll have it when you’ve delivered,’ she says, trying to sound as if she knows what she’s doing. She doesn’t, not really.

But it works. He laughs again. ‘You’d make one hell of a pirate,’ he says. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, milady.’ He leaves, but not after pressing a kiss to her hand like he did when he first met her. The tingling it leaves on her skin feels both entirely wrong and utterly right.

* * *

 

The nerves keep plaguing Milah the rest of the day, robbing her of her appetite, tying her stomach into tight knots. The deal is struck, but there is still a way out if she chooses not to go through with it. She hasn’t paid the pirate yet and if she simply won’t go to the agreed meeting place, nothing will ever come of this. Killian Jones and his charm will leave and she can forget she came ever this close to breaking her marriage vows and abandoning her only child.

But she cannot do that, she cannot go back to her old life after coming so close. She’s made her choice and Milah is not in the habit of changing her mind once it has been made up. To whatever end, she is going to stick with this plan.

But her resolve is severely tested by Bae – certainly not by Rumple; he only strengthens it – that night when he shyly asks her to tuck him in and tell him a story before he goes to sleep. That smile on his face would even turn an ogre into a cuddly uncle, she is sure, and she can’t find it in herself to deny him this. Soon enough she will be out of his life and she wants to give him at least one good memory of her to soften the blow when she will not be coming home tomorrow.

 _If only I could take him with me_. But she can’t, and even she has to admit that the captain has good – even honourable – reasons to deny that request. _Damn you, Killian Jones_.

She wishes she could let Baelfire know that, no matter what he will be told, she won’t be dead or at the mercy of ruthless pirates. She wishes she could tell him that he will only have to wait a few years before she will come back for him and take him with her, but she can’t. She loves her son, but she cannot trust him to keep this secret for her. He’ll go straight to Rumplestiltskin with it, and her husband is the last person she wants to know about her plan. And so she acts normally, as if this is just an ordinary day, as if tomorrow will be perfectly ordinary as well, when she is the only one in this village who knows full well that it isn’t.

 _I’m so sorry, my boy_. Milah bites away the tears as she presses a kiss to his forehead. Bae is already half asleep, looking so peaceful, so innocent. _I am so sorry._

Bae drifts off and Rumple is still out doing whatever it is that he does, so Milah sets to preparing for her flight. She can’t take much. The last thing she wants is to make this look as if it was planned, because that would defeat the whole purpose of the so-called abduction, so she has to be inventive. And at least the weather is in her favour, because even though spring has come, the wind is still chilly, which gives her an excuse to wear Rumple’s old breeches underneath her skirt. He won’t think anything of that; she’s done it before. She’ll be wearing layers, which isn’t unusual either. That’s clothes taken care of at least. She leaves the earrings and necklace in her purse and adds a few coins of little value to pay for minor things along the way. There are no real personal belongings to pack – they are too poor to have any of those – and so she goes to bed, hoping to catch a few hours of sleep.

Naturally, sleeping is quite out of the question. Milah tosses and turns, senses alive with anticipation. She can’t use that; she’ll have to act as if nothing is amiss. But it is hard, harder than she thought it would be. Somehow she always imagined that the day she finally left this place, she would be singing and whistling with joy. Joy however is not among the emotions she feels now.

 _Who would have thought it was all so complicated?_ Milah thinks just before she falls into a fitful sleep.

* * *

 

The day of her escape dawns with clear skies and a cold breeze that justifies every layer Milah puts on. No one will question her for this. And that’s good. At least one thing is in her favour. She urges Baelfire to dress warmly as well. She ignores Rumple. The age he is, he should know how to dress.

It’s even harder than yesterday to behave normally, but her husband and son remain oblivious, so she thinks that she is at least succeeding, even though she feels as if she is giving herself away constantly. She is doing this, she is really doing this. Excitement and dread are fighting for dominance, and there is a stab of pain in her heart every time she looks at Baelfire. She consoles herself by reminding herself that their separation won’t be forever, just for a few years, and then she’ll be back to take him with her.

Now she just needs an excuse to get out of the house.

Ironically Rumple is as kind as to provide her with one. ‘Milah, would you mind taking this order to John?’

Shy smile and pleading puppy eyes are directed at her and completely understandable that is too. John is a weaver in town they often do business with, but he’s as rude as they come, and it is a trial being anywhere near him for longer than a few seconds. Milah despises him, even more so because she knows that they need him and cannot afford to pay him in kind for his rudeness. She _hates_ going there.

But today Rumple’s request is a gift from heaven. The shortest route to his workshop is through the street where she’s agreed to “meet” Captain Jones, and it is just about the right time to go and make sure she is where she is supposed to be.

Still, it wouldn’t do to be seen as too eager and so she throws her hands in the air in a gesture of defeat. ‘Fine. I’ll go.’ She resists the childish urge to add that it would be his turn next time. There won’t be a next time, but Rumple doesn’t know that, nor does he need to know. He’ll find out soon enough.

Milah gives Baelfire another kiss on the forehead – the closest she’ll get to a goodbye with him, because a real goodbye would not escape even Rumplestiltskin’s notice – tells him to be good and then leaves the cottage for the last time with her wares in a basket. She has everything she needs and she is as ready as she will ever be for this. No going back now.

There are quite enough people going about their business in the street where she will be taken, Milah notices. There are some small shops and all of them are open. At least the pirate has the audience he wanted.

She’s barely finished that thought when she is grabbed from behind and her arms are twisted behind her back. In a reflex she drops the basket, but that is fine with her; she didn’t plan to deprive Rumple – well, more like Baelfire – of a source of income. Apart from the few coins, she has taken nothing that did not already belong to her.

‘Let me go!’ she shouts.

She kicks and tries to wriggle out of the grasp of the men that are taking her. If this is going to convince the people of this town, then she has to make sure that it looks real. And Milah is sure that her arms will bruise from the force these pirates are using, so it is only fair if she hurts some of them in turn. Judging by the noise one of them makes when her feet come into contact with his legs, her kicks are forceful enough. And she really is not about to admit that they hurt her own toes just as badly.

‘Help me!’ she screams, just to add to the show, and because that is what damsels in distress always do. But her neighbours don’t lift a finger. They know better than to go up against pirates, who are better skilled and better armed. She’s not even gone yet, but they have already given her up for a lost cause. But then, had she been in their shoes, Milah would not have risked her neck either.

Of course this is no fight she can win, even if this had been real and she was fighting for her life. She feels more than she sees – her hair has gotten loose and falls into her eyes – that they are starting to drag her away, back to the ship that is her way out of here. If she’d had her way, she’d let them without putting up a fight any longer, but Milah is quite sure that there are still people watching, and so she keeps on struggling, just enough that the people won’t think it is just a show.

From between locks of hair she can see the dreaded Wilma woman on the other side of the street, looking on in what appears to be shock. It’s an expression that is utterly out of place on her face. It’s also very satisfying to see.

The pirates drag her on board and then let her go. Well, there’s still a hand holding her in place on each shoulder, just if anyone should be watching, but Milah doesn’t care. Her plan has worked, and she is halfway out of town.

She is met by the sight of Captain Killian Jones casually leaning against the helm. ‘Apologies for the manner of your arrival, milady.’ There’s definitely mocking in his tone. Milah rather thinks he very much enjoyed the show.

‘I’m sure you are,’ she snorts, letting him know exactly how much she believes of that statement.

‘Lads, take the lady to the captain’s quarters,’ he instructs his men and for a moment Milah experiences something akin to panic. Surely he wouldn’t dare. They have a deal. But then he leans closer with that devilish smile plastered all over his face. ‘We’ve got to keep up appearances, after all.’

She has a feeling he wouldn’t mind it if it were more than just appearances, though. From what she has seen, it looks like he is rather interested in her even when he is not under the influence of the rum. To her own surprise she finds that she is not nearly as opposed to the idea as she ought to be.

For someone who claims not to do abductions, it seems he knows very well what he is doing. The “lads” drag her below deck and leave her in the captain’s cabin. Captain Jones himself follows not far behind.

‘I assume you’re here to keep up appearances,’ Milah says as if she is in full control of the situation. They both know that she isn’t, but it can’t hurt to pretend, can it? Only now that she is away from Rumple does she realise that she is out of her element and that she has no idea how to act or what to say. This is not her world. But somewhere, underneath all the nerves, the excitement is still there.

‘Aye,’ Killian Jones agrees. ‘And for my payment. A deal’s a deal.’

‘Fair enough,’ Milah says, hoping she can deliver the line with the same ease he did yesterday. She takes the earrings from her purse and drops them in his hand. ‘Here’s the payment, as promised.’

She expects him to pocket them, but instead he tells her to stay still and he moves to put them back in her ears. ‘There,’ he says, stepping back to examine his handiwork.

Milah frowns. ‘You’re giving them back?’ What is he playing at?

The captain only shrugs. ‘It’s my treasure. I can give it to whom I like.’

There’s got to be some snake in the grass here and Milah is instantly on her guard. ‘What about the payment?’

‘I did say it was _my_ treasure, didn’t I?’ When this doesn’t do the job of reassuring her, he laughs. ‘The payment is fulfilled, love. But they wouldn’t look quite as good on me as they would on you, would they?’

She shoots a pointed look at his ears. ‘You _are_ the earring wearing type,’ Milah points out before she can even begin to think about stopping herself. Provoking him is surely the fastest way to be kicked off the ship, and she doesn’t plan on any of that.

But her words are met by a grin rather than an angry remark. ‘That I am, though I prefer to leave the more feminine articles to the ladies. Especially…’

‘One as beautiful as myself,’ Milah finishes before he gets the chance. He’s definitely flirting with her now, but she hardly knows what to do with it. This man is the embodiment of danger and risk, the very type she has tried her hardest to stay away from, yet every time they meet this flirtatious banter occurs, and it’s as natural as breathing. She doesn’t even need to think about it when she does it. But it also carries the promise of more, and Milah is not quite so certain that is what she wants. She’s always considered herself the sensible sort.

 _Whereas your current actions are the height of common sense, to be sure_.

Killian laughs and is clearly on the verge of coming up with a witty comeback, when one of his men knocks and begs his captain’s pardon.

‘Yes, Billy?’ He almost sounds annoyed to be interrupted.

‘Looks like the lady’s husband is on his way, captain,’ the sailor announces.

‘I’ll be right up.’

Killian Jones looks almost relieved to hear the news, which is something Milah can’t quite understand. She does not want Rumple to come here. She devised this whole scheme to get away from him. Him coming here is _not_ part of the plan. The idea that he might had not even entered her mind. Rumple is such a coward. The last thing he’ll want to do is to get near a bunch of pirates, a group of people who are as dangerous as they come. _Damn you, Rumple. Of all the times you should find your courage, you choose to do it now?_

Then she remembers her own words a few days ago. _I wish you’d fought._ Has he taken her words to heart after all? It makes her wish she could unsay them. Why can’t he just be like the other villagers and look on while his wife gets taken? Then, when has Rumplestiltskin ever done as he should?

Captain Jones turns. ‘I’ll be right back, lass. Stay here. I’ll deal with your husband.’

Oh, she has no intention of going anywhere Rumple might see her, but she is not at all opposed to eavesdropping. Not that the sounds coming from outside are telling her very much right now. She hears a few thuds, but without any information her eyes can give her, that means next to nothing. Well, at least not until a voice commands an unseen person to get ‘On your feet for the captain.’ Rumple is on board then.

The verbal confirmation comes a little later. ‘I remember you, from the bar.’ Milah has to strain her ears to make out the words; Rumple is soft-spoken, always has been, and now he is nervous, too.

At least the captain has no trouble making himself heard. His voice reaches her ears loud and clear. ‘It’s always nice to make an impression.’ The crew laughs at this. ‘Where are my manners? We haven’t been formally introduced. Killian Jones, captain of the Jolly Roger.’ So that’s what the ship is called. Strange, she hasn’t even thought to wonder about it. But the name seems to suit a ship such as this one. ‘Now, what are you doing aboard my ship?’ As if he doesn’t know already.

‘You have my wife,’ Rumple says. Milah can easily picture him, even when she can’t see him, leaning on his staff, unleashing the puppy eyes on someone who is completely immune to them. It’s pathetic. There is just no other word for it.

As predicted, the pirate is not impressed. ‘I’ve had many men’s wife.’ This induces another round of laughter, but Milah is starting to feel slightly uncomfortable. It does ring rather true.

Rumple’s next words are impossible to hear over the crew’s laughter. She just catches the last few words. ‘… needs his mother.’

Bae. He’s talking about Baelfire. The guilt washes over her anew, because Rumple does have a point. She is leaving her child behind, and now that she thinks of him again, she cannot pretend that it doesn’t feel as if she is leaving a part of her own heart behind with him. None of this is simple, and all of it hurts one way or another.

Killian has no such reservations. ‘You see, I have a ship full of men who need… companionship.’ Milah hopes this is just part of the act and he doesn’t really mean to give her to his crew for entertainment. Up till now he’s been living up his reputation of being a gentleman, but that could just have been a hoax to lure her in until she’s trapped.

She only hears the ‘please, let her go’ of Rumple’s next sentence.

And she does not quite catch the first part of Jones’s sentence either, because he too is speaking quietly for a minute. Only when he raises his voice again, can she hear what he’s saying. ‘I do consider myself an honourable man, a man with a code, if you will. So, if you truly want your wife back…’ The meaning of his words is underlined by the sound of a sword being drawn. ‘All you have to do is take her.’

The sly bastard. He knows that Rumple is a coward, one who doesn’t fight. She told him that herself, but even if she hadn’t, he might have been able to deduce it from Rumple’s own behaviour. Still, she hasn’t expected that Rumple would actually come here to claim her either. Who knows what foolish notions have set themselves in his head. And Milah dislikes the thought of anyone gambling with her future when that anyone isn’t her.

She’s been too busy panicking to pay much attention to what’s being said on deck, but Killian’s explanation that ‘the pointy end goes in the other guy’ leads her to the conclusion that he is lecturing her husband on the finer points of duelling.

There’s a silence on deck so loud that Milah’s fingers are starting to itch to open this door and just see what is going on. She doesn’t like this, doesn’t like that she can’t see a single thing of what is going on. And as long as nobody talks, how is she to know what happens?

Fortunately the captain obliges her. ‘A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets.’

And just like that, the confrontation appears to be over. Rumple won’t fight for her. His newfound courage doesn’t stretch to the actual using of a sword. And the only thing Milah can feel for him now is contempt. She is lucky to be away from such a man. If he cannot even fight for those he proclaims to love, then what good is he?

‘What am I going to tell my boy?’ Rumple begs.

‘Try the truth,’ the captain suggests. ‘His father is a coward.’ And she is leaving her son in the hands of aforementioned coward. What does she even think she is doing? ‘Now, if you’d kindly leave my ship, we’re about to set sail.’

‘Sir, please!’ It’s as close to raising his voice as Rumple will ever get.

‘Of course you’re welcome to walk the plank if you feel you’re not ready to leave just yet.’ Killian’s voice sounds closer now. ‘The sharks are always hungry.’

She hears no more from her coward of a husband, and hardly a minute later, the captain re-enters the cabin. ‘Well, now that the nasty business with the cripple is all over, would you like to tell me where it is that you want to go, love?’ He looks extremely pleased with himself.

Milah for one is just relieved that Rumplestiltskin has gone and that Killian is apparently still holding to the deal they’ve struck. His little display in front of Rumple was clearly only just that. Her escape has been successful. She’s on her way to a better life.

And so Milah allows herself a smile. ‘Anywhere,’ she answers. ‘Everywhere.’

She’s done it. The ship is finally out of its bottle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently this story is not going to be done in two chapters. Did I mention that writing projects often tend to get a lot longer than planned? Anyway, I’m currently working on the third part, which really should be the last part.  
> Thanks for reading. A review would be much appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

For all her feelings of victory, Milah’s first days at sea are rather anti-climactic. They are hardly on open sea when sea sickness hits her and then she is hanging over the railing, vomiting what little food there was in her stomach right into the salty waters. She makes it back to a bed – in her current state she really doesn’t care who it belongs to – and spends the night there. Of course she doesn’t sleep a wink. Her stomach protests the existence of every little wave, and although she is being told that the sea is relatively calm – she especially notes the use of the word relative – it does nothing to help her.

At the same time she is slightly grateful for it, because at least her own misery stops her from thinking about the son she left behind. Bae, her Baelfire. She does not regret her decision to leave that village behind, but she misses her child and yes, she does regret the decision to leave him with Rumple. So maybe it is a good thing that she is too sick to do much thinking now anyway.

She estimates that it is about dawn when she hears footsteps again. Milah has been lying with her eyes closed, trying to control her breathing in a vain attempt to get the nausea under control. And let them think that she is asleep; right now she is not in the mood for company.

‘You know that sleepers rarely frown like you do?’ It’s the captain and he seems to find her predicament clearly rather amusing.

‘Go away,’ she moans.

‘One thing you should know, love,’ he tells her. ‘This is my ship, so you’ll follow my orders. Come on, up you get.’

When she takes absolutely no effort at all to do as she is told – because she is for all intents and purposes a passenger on his ship and not one of his crew – she hears a low chuckle, and next she knows he’s lifted her up as if she weighs nothing at all. Her stomach heaves.

‘I’m going to…’ is all she manages to say before she’s throwing up, again, but somehow there’s a bucket and he’s holding her hair back, like the gentleman he claims to be. What game does he think he’s playing? She just can’t get the measure of him and it is making her very ill at ease.

When it’s over and he’s set her back on the bed for now – although in a sitting position rather than lying down – she decides to ask. ‘Why?’

He seems genuinely puzzled. ‘Why what?’

‘Why this?’ She flaps her hands about. Eloquence rather fails her at the moment, but she thinks she’s entitled to, since she is rather unwell at the moment. Why this kindness? That is what she means to ask, because it doesn’t fit. He’s a pirate captain, one who clearly had no reservations about kidnapping a woman and challenging her husband to a duel. He’s a pirate; he steals, takes what he wants. But he’s also playing at being a gentleman, even when she does not look her best and is in no state to get into his bed, if she had even wanted that in the first place. And Milah doesn’t want.

Or at least, that is what she tells herself.

‘I told you: I’m a gentleman,’ he replies, disarming smile well in place.

If anything, it makes her want to keep her distance even more. But if she is really honest, she mostly wants to keep her distance because there is a part of her that doesn’t mind his presence, that wants him to stay and be near. _Goodness, Milah, you’ve only just run away from your husband and now you’re about to throw yourself at the nearest available man?_ She doesn’t know what that says about her.

‘I wasn’t always a pirate, love,’ Killian reminds her. The thought is somewhat strange to her. Of course she knows that pirates don’t come from their mother’s womb with sword in hand, ready to terrorise the known seas, but neither does she spend much time contemplating how they end up as they do. Most people have more pressing concerns on their mind when coming into contact with their ilk. ‘Your stomach has settled down?’

She is feeling miserable, she’s eaten away by guilt over leaving her only child and she’s suffering from a lack of sleep. It’s not as if her control over her own tongue is at its best. ‘Would I be sitting here if it had?’ she demands. _Leave me. Just leave me alone._

‘Just enough to take a short trip up to the deck.’ He is completely calm in the face of her anger. ‘It won’t do you any good just lying here, lass. Seeing the horizon tends to help, as does the fresh air. Come on, on your feet.’

He’s the one with experience on life at sea, but Milah would much prefer to stay where she is as to avoid all movement.

‘Of course, I’d love to carry you.’ And there is that flirtatious smile again that really would make butterflies appear in her stomach, were it not that aforementioned stomach is otherwise preoccupied at the moment. ‘And I think you do not nearly dislike it as much as you pretend you do.’

As if to prove him wrong, Milah forces herself to stand. It’s not as if he is giving her a choice, but she’ll at least do it on her own terms. She’s finally taken control of her own life – and shouldn’t she be feeling better about that? – and she won’t hand it straight over to a pirate who’s making her feel things she isn’t sure she wants to feel.

‘I can walk,’ she says defiantly.

‘Not the answer I’d hoped for,’ he sighs. ‘Follow me.’

Much as Milah would have liked to take the lead, she doesn’t know her way around this vessel. As it is, she has to do her best to even stay upright because the Jolly Roger is swaying and swinging on the waves. Killian Jones doesn’t seem affected at all. He walks as confident as if he were on shore, without thinking and without grasping whatever comes to hand for keeping his balance.

The sun is not quite up when they arrive on deck, but there is enough light to see by, and the fresh air does clear Milah’s head, exactly as Killian promised. He offers her a hand she can hold as they make their way to the helm. The captain dismisses the man currently holding it, leaving them alone, or as alone as one can be on a ship full of men.

‘Isn’t she a marvel?’ Pride rings in the captain’s every word as he makes a wide gesture to indicate the ship.

Her stomach still feels tender and queasy, but it is better than it has been since they left port, so Milah counts it a great improvement. So she does take a moment to look at the ship, what she can see of it from where she’s standing. Not that she knows much about seafaring vessels; she’s never set foot on one before. She’s only ever seen them from a distance, so she is hardly one to cast a fair judgement. To her it’s just wood, ropes and sails, all held together somehow, drifting on a vast body of water, made for its practicality rather than for beauty. But since this is the ship that will take her to wherever she wants to go, she is prepared to sing its praises to the high heavens. And she does.

Jones sees through her words before she’s even finished talking and he laughs. ‘You’ll learn to see it, love,’ he assures her.

 _I’m not sure I’ll be here for that long enough_ , Milah thinks.

* * *

 

It’s on her fourth day aboard the pirate vessel the Jolly Roger when one of the men in the crow’s nest shouts down that he has spotted a merchant vessel somewhere to the south, flying the colours of a kingdom that Milah instantly forgets the name of. It clearly means more to the captain; his mouth narrows to a thin line and there is steel in his eyes as he orders to prepare for an attack.

Right, of course, they’re pirates. Robbing merchants and making them walk the plank is what they do. All those stories she’s heard in the tavern over the last couple of years have to come from somewhere. Jones has said himself that robbing ships is more his expertise than kidnapping women.

‘Get below deck, love,’ he tells her. ‘This will not be pretty.’

She could write books about her own experiences with things that are far from pretty; she has years of experience there, but that is probably not the kind of thing to tell Killian Jones. And she has found out that he meant it when he told her that this is his ship and his orders are to be obeyed. It’s best to do as she is told.

‘Fine,’ she says in that special tone of voice, just so he knows that she is not the obedient little woman, if that was not clear to him already. She has never been anything like that, and he would do well to remember it. Even in her marriage, she has never been the demure one. It’s a role that does not suit her.

Maybe that’s what made her seek passage on a pirate ship of all places. Maybe her craving for danger is stronger than she thought it would be.

Still, she goes below deck as she is told, and she sits on a bed that she may call her own for the duration of the journey. It usually belongs to the captain’s first mate, a man in his early thirties by the name of Daniel (‘but everyone just calls me Danny, milady’), but he has kindly offered her use of it while he bunks with the rest of the crew. All of them have thus far treated her with impeccable but not unwelcoming politeness. They don’t fit with the picture of brutes that was painted of them in the stories that she has heard so many times.

Above her head she hears frantic activity, and the captain’s voice bellowing commands. For some reasons the nerves are settling in her stomach, or maybe that is just the last of the sea sickness making itself known. Milah doesn’t know, but she feels very ill at ease at the prospect of being caught up in a fight.

Like Rumple.

The thought freezes her into place. No, she is nothing like her cowardly husband, who could not even bear to go near the field of battle. And of course their situations are nothing at all alike. It was expected of Rumple to fight, to defend their land against the ogres. But instead of fighting he ran straight back home, or maybe she should say that he limped back home. Whereas she has been explicitly told not to get involved in any fighting.

Still sitting back is not something Milah is well known for, and the comparison with Rumple that has just made itself known makes it impossible for her to sit back and do nothing. She is up on her feet before she has made a conscious decision to do so. She knows Danny keeps a spare blade in his cabin – she’s stumbled across it two days previously – that he hasn’t taken with him when he offered her his bed. And she won’t go out there without a weapon. The sounds coming down are definitely the sounds of a fight. Not that Milah has ever been in one before, but well, it’s hard to mistake those noises for anything else.

_What am I even doing?_

Truth is, she doesn’t know. She really doesn’t know. Common sense demands that she turns right back and gets this foolish notion right out of her head. It’s downright reckless, and Milah is known for being anything but. She’s the sensible one, the practical one. This is neither sensible nor practical.

This, she reckons, is more like recklessness, and that seems to be more the captain’s prerogative than hers. In that he could not be more different from Rumple. Rumple always chooses to save his own skin, running away, hiding, ignoring the talk that’s going round about him, while Killian Jones risks everything, constantly teetering on the edge of recklessness, crossing lines left, right and centre. She can see him standing now, up at the helm, fighting three men at once and still moving as if this is nothing particularly dangerous or out of the ordinary.

But it is, Milah realises. There is not much that she knows about piracy, but she is fairly certain it involves the pirates boarding the other ship, not the other way around. The fighting has taken a turn for the worst, because there are far too many unfamiliar faces on deck, and none of them look friendly.

And suddenly Milah is caught in the middle of it all and she has no idea what to do with the sword that is in her hand. She remembers the captain’s words to Rumple: the pointy end goes in the other guy. It would have been more helpful advice if he had instructed her how such a thing could be achieved.

But there is no time to think or to remain standing where she is, because there is a fight still ongoing. _Run_ , commands an inner voice that sounds suspiciously like Rumplestiltskin. And it is tempting, very tempting now that she is faced with the true horrors of a fight. But if she really wanted to stay out of this, she would have obeyed the captain’s commands. Turning back now means that she is no less a coward than her husband – if she is even still married; the rules are a bit unclear in this case – and that is a thought she simply cannot bear.

Instead she locks eyes with a cabin boy a bit further off, looking just as frightened as Milah feels. She doesn’t know his name, but she’s seen him before, and from a little distance, the resemblance with Bae is striking. Up close not so much, but she isn’t close now and he looks just like Baelfire might look in a couple of years. The boy is fourteen years old, fifteen at the most, and he looks terrified. Terrified, and about to die. There is a man nearby, preparing to throw a knife that will end his life.

_Oh no, you don’t!_

Rational thinking does not come into it, and for one moment Milah is just as reckless as the captain. She charges forward. The knife leaves the man’s hand, but it doesn’t find its intended target. Instead it buries itself in her left arm. The impact makes her stagger, trip and then makes her head connect with something that she can’t quite identify, but that instantly makes her vision go black and makes her consciousness slip away. __

* * *

She wakes in a comfortable bed. Or well, Milah supposes it would be comfortable if her head didn’t feel like it has been caught between hammer and anvil and it didn’t feel like her left arm was on fire. Someone is prodding at it and she lets out an involuntary moan.

‘She’s awake,’ someone announces.

‘Aye,’ the captain says. ‘I noticed. That was a brave thing you did there, love.’

Milah forces her eyes open to find herself looking at Killian Jones towering over her, hands folded across his chest and an expression that appears to be equal measures amusement and admiration. The first she is used to, the second not so much.

‘What happened?’ _What happened to make you look at me like that?_ It’s even harder to deny that she is not feeling anything for this pirate when he is behaving as if she’s single-handedly stopped the Ogre’s War.

The captain answers, but only her first question. Her unspoken one goes unnoticed. ‘You saved the lad’s life,’ he says. ‘And you disobeyed my orders.’ He turns to the other man in the cabin – wait, are they in the captain’s cabin? – and dismisses him, telling him that he can handle the rest on his own.

Milah’s discomfort increases. She can handle Killian Jones in the company of others. When she has him on his own, she is not all that certain anymore. Being stuck with him on a ship for a couple of days has made her realise that denying that she is attracted to him is a lie that doesn’t even convince herself.

But there are objections to such a thing aplenty. She is married – is she indeed? – she is on her way to a new life and after this journey she will never see him again, and the one thing that Milah does not believe in are short-lived flings. It’s all good and well for the men, but they don’t run the risk to get pregnant and are left to raise a child on their own, do they?

‘I told you, lass, this is my ship, so you follow my rules.’

Jones has taken over the role of physician. He’s uncorked a bottle of something and pours it over the wound. Milah presumes it is to clean it, but it stings. She hisses in pain, but doesn’t give him the satisfaction of squealing or squirming.

‘What was that?’ she demands, sending him a glare to go with it.

‘Rum,’ he replies cheerfully. ‘Bloody waste of it, too.’ He nods at her injury. ‘That’ll need to be stitched up.’

‘Do it,’ she says. The sooner they get this over with, the better it is going to be.

‘You still don’t get it, do you?’ He shakes his head, but Milah feels that he is not really angry with her. Had he been, he would not have begun this conversation with remarking that she had done a very brave thing.

It’s only now that the events start to sink in properly. She’s saved a life today, and it feels utterly strange. She hadn’t pegged herself as one of those hero types. It’s not what she does. But it is better than running away. True, her head aches, her arm burns, but there is that feeling of triumph in her chest as well. She’s done a good thing, she’s done a brave thing, and that makes her better than the man she ran away from.

‘Don’t get what?’ she questions.

‘It’s my ship,’ he points out.

‘And I’m supposed to follow your orders,’ Milah finishes. ‘But I am strictly speaking not one of your crew.’

‘But still on my ship,’ Killian Jones reminds her. ‘I dislike it when people disobey me.’

And there is really nothing she can say in her defence. The only reason she disobeyed him is that she didn’t want to be as much of a coward as Rumple, and in hindsight it does seem foolish and reckless what she’s done. This is nothing like what she usually does. That is frightening in and out of itself. She can’t even tell what came over her. Milah has always been one to go for the safe option – hence her decision to marry Rumple in the first place – but ever since she’s decided to run away, she hasn’t been playing safe at all. She’s been taking risks, running out to save others. She’s never done that before, so why start now?

But it is now that she knows that about one thing at least she has made the right choice. She has seen how dangerous this life is. And although the guilt won’t be so easily dispelled, she knows that the captain made a very good point when he denied her the chance to take Baelfire with her. This is not something she can do to him, not when he is still this young.

Killian Jones goes on as if he hasn’t noticed her discomfort, waving his arms around with a flair that would not be out of place in a theatre, but that strangely fits him as well. ‘But I do consider myself an honourable man, and you assisted in the fight, so I’ve had your share of the treasure delivered to your cabin.’

Milah’s eyes widen. ‘ _My_ share of the treasure?’ she repeats stupidly.

‘Aye.’ He grins down at her. ‘Unless of course you have no interest in it. As you know, I have a keen interest in treasure.’ It’s obvious that he isn’t talking about gold anymore.

Oh, she has an interest. She needs everything she can get if she is to make a good life for herself. The necklace she already has in her possession would make for a good start, but it wouldn’t support her for long. This is more than she could have hoped for.

It’s difficult to flirt right back at him when her head is pounding like that, but she manages. ‘I think you’ll find that it is my treasure now,’ she says. Why on earth is she making this sound like some sort of challenge? ‘I’d advise you not to take it.’

His raised eyebrow asks her what she thinks she is going to do if he does. ‘You can’t even stand, love, and while I do love to acquaint myself with women on their backs, I might wait until you’ve recovered.’

‘Bad form to take advantage?’ she guesses. After spending some time with him, it becomes easier to read him.

‘Very bad form,’ he agrees. ‘Now, let’s see about those stitches, shall we?’

Milah grimaces. ‘You wouldn’t have any rum left, would you?’ It might at least take the edge off the pain.

Killian Jones only laughs. ‘I told you, you’d make a hell of a pirate.’

* * *

 

As much as Milah would like to deny those words, eventually she thinks she may have to give him credit for being so observant. Her recklessness has earned her the respect of the crew and strangely enough that means that she is no longer addressed as milady, but rather by her own name. Even stranger still, she is treated as if she is one of them, as if she has proved her worth and now has earned her place among them.

And it is confusing, because as far as Milah is concerned, she is not one of them. She is still just a passenger on her way to a better life. The Jolly Roger will merely take her there. Having said that, she enjoys the camaraderie that she is now apparently a part of. She laughs at jokes and makes jokes in return.

Danny’s offered her the use of his spare sword and his services as a teacher, although it is the captain himself who turns out to be doing most of the teaching. Milah is sure he cheats by smiling at her in that special way that makes her lose focus instantly, but of course he denies it.

‘You’re letting yourself be distracted, love,’ he tells her. ‘It’s not my fault I’m devilishly handsome.’

‘Although you can take credit for having such a large ego,’ she shoots right back. ‘It’s a miracle this ship hasn’t sunk yet.’

There is some comfort to be found in the flirtatious banter, as long as it remains just that. But every now and then they touch – and she is pretty sure he’s doing it on purpose – and it sends butterflies right into her stomach and tingles down her spine. It is exhilarating and frightening at the same time, because she’s never felt like this before. She used to love Rumple, but it was a simple love, one that was more based on contentment and knowing that they could make a life together. She chose him almost rationally. _Rumple is gentle. He works hard. He doesn’t get drunk. He isn’t violent_. Love was not part of that list she once gave her father in what now feels like another lifetime.

 _I loved the idea of him more than I loved him_.

The realisation comes just in time for their docking in some town that Killian deems a good place to stop for supplies. ‘And it’s got a good tavern as well,’ he adds with a wink. But that means that her time here is at an end. He’s done what he’s promised to do, what she’s paid him to do, and now it is up to her to make her own way, as she’s planned from the moment she decided to leave Rumplestiltskin.

‘I suppose this is where we part ways, then,’ she says. She’s standing at the railing, watching what she can see of the town, trying to assess what sort of place it is. It looks better than where she’s come from, but other than that it doesn’t appear to be much out of the ordinary.

Killian wrinkles his nose. ‘You won’t want to do that,’ he tells her. ‘The king of this land is… well, a rather unpleasant sort of fellow. A bit on the cruel side. And rumour has it he’s about to make an alliance with your king against the ogres.’

Which rules this place out immediately. If she plans to bring Baelfire to come and live with her, she won’t want to bring him to a place where he’ll get caught up in a war after all. She’ll have to find another place.

‘How much further will my payment bring me?’ she asks.

‘I seem to remember having agreed to everywhere,’ he jests. ‘And the deal is struck. Will you be joining us in the tavern tonight, love?’

She does, and she has an amazing time. Milah loved that one night she had when she first met Killian and his crew, but it feels better now, when Rumple is gone from her life and the men consider her one of theirs. She laughs with them, she drinks with them and when someone eventually suggests a game of dice, she enjoys that as well. She loses one of the jewels that was in her share of the treasure, but she also wins a bracelet that is easily worth twice as much. And when the ship sets sail two days later, she is strangely pleased to still find herself on it.

This repeats itself with the next three towns they stop at. Killian finds some excuse to sour the idea of living there for her, she goes to the tavern with the crew and sets sail the next morning with them without any regrets. Had someone told her a few years ago that she would one day be living on a pirate ship and would love every minute of it, Milah would have laughed. She wouldn’t laugh now. She knows it for the truth that it is.

She is long beyond denying her attraction to the captain, but it still takes her almost three months before she accepts his daily repeated offer to dine with him in his cabin. She is still wary of his intentions towards her, but they are lessening the longer they flirt and he does nothing about it. And dinner with him does not disappoint. He’s the perfect gentleman, albeit with some pirate manners, but it is just dinner, pleasant conversation and a drink after. In the end he walks her back to her cabin, bids her goodnight and disappears with only a kiss pressed to her hand.

He’s courting her. Milah instinctively knows what this is. Rumple has never done that; what they had was always something by mutual agreement, and there was never any need to win her, because she had already made up her mind and chosen him. With Killian it is different.

It doesn’t change the fact that her future is still uncertain, and she needs certainty to build on. That is one thing that hasn’t changed, and it is strangely reassuring. And she won’t agree to do anything with Killian Jones until she has that certainty.

And so she finds herself having dinner with him almost every night.

‘We’re docking tomorrow,’ Killian informs her over a glass of wine they’ve taken from a merchant vessel three days previous.

‘A good town?’ she feels compelled to ask.

‘For drinking, aye,’ he says. ‘Not for settling. It’s not well defended, gets plundered often.’

Milah arches an eyebrow. ‘Experience with that, have you?’

That grin is all the answer she needs.

‘Well, I guess I’ll have to find another place,’ she sighs. She is starting to think that the perfect place does not exist, or maybe they all just pale in comparison with the life she lives and loves aboard the Jolly Roger.

‘Of course, you can always choose to make your stay aboard my ship more permanent.’ He seems relaxed as he voices his offer. He’s all but lounging in his chair, swirling the contents of his glass as he looks at it. But there’s a tension to his posture, something that tells Milah that this offer does not come out of nowhere, that he’s been thinking about it and that he wants her to accept it.

Does she want to accept it?

A large part answers that question with yes, of course. She loves this life, against all her own expectations. But it is not a stable life, it is not a safe life. It goes against everything she has always chosen, and old habits are hard to break. But she has never felt as alive as she has felt these past few months. With Rumple she was content – well, at least before he was drafted in for the army – but there were no great joys. It was just life, ordinary. With Killian it’s different. And although it is frightening and more risky than the old Milah would ever have been comfortable with, she also finds that she won’t have it any other way.

‘I might,’ she says in an off-handed way, as if it is nothing at all important, as if this is not the decision that will alter her life forever. ‘Unless the captain objects, of course.’  
A smile lights up his face as he looks at her. ‘You’ll hear no objections from me, love.’

And just like that, she has become a part of the crew of the pirate vessel the Jolly Roger.

And now that she has made her decision to stay, Milah decides that maybe it is time to give up the fight and give the good captain and herself what they want. She’s told herself that she would not make such a decision without being certain of her future, but now that she is, there is no excuse to delay any longer. Milah finds she doesn’t really want to delay.

So, the next evening, when he offers her his arm to escort her back to her cabin – a habit he can’t seem to break, even though she’s told him she can find her way back on her own – she takes the initiative to kiss him. He’s a bit startled, because he clearly did not see it coming, but he’s quick to respond, and it is raw passion, but also love that she feels sparking between them.

‘Are you sure?’ he asks when they reluctantly end the kiss; because they do need to breathe.

‘I am.’

It’s all the answer Killian needs. True, he’s enough of a gentleman to respect her borders, but he’s also pirate enough to take what it is freely offered. Milah does not return to her cabin that night, or any night after, so after a week of spending the night in Killian’s cabin and Killian’s bed, she tells Danny that she’ll remove her things and he can have his bed back.

Milah’s course is set.

* * *

 

Fifteen. She’ll wait until Baelfire is fifteen years old before she’ll go and get him. The original plan was to wait until he was twelve, thirteen years of age, but things have rather changed since then. She knows first-hand how dangerous life on the Jolly Roger can be – even though it is also completely wonderful at the same time – and she will not expose her boy to such dangers before he’s old enough.

She has not forgotten about her son, she will never forget about him. How can she? She’s carried him inside her, loved him from the moment he has been laid in her arms, and possibly even before. And yes, she feels guilty over leaving him. She will never stop feeling guilty over leaving him with Rumple while she ran off to a better life. She consoles herself with the thought that it is not forever.

And it will work, she knows. Last she heard they didn’t recruit anyone under the age of sixteen to fight in the war, so there is enough time. She’s discussed it with Killian, who stands by his offer to take the boy in when he’s older, so for what may be the first time in her life, things work out for the better. It’s a strange feeling, too. Milah is content again, but that is different from how it was with Rumple. It feels stronger, more joyful, _better_. At the same time there’s always this nagging little feeling that it is too good to be true, that someday it will all fall apart around her and there won’t be a thing she can do about it. Of course she tells herself it is silly and a waste of time to think like that, but some feelings are not that easily dismissed.

And eventually the day comes when they’re proven right. They’re in some small village for a day or two, just to trade their illegally acquired gold for supplies, a place they have been at least a dozen times before. Usually it’s a quiet place, and it is close enough to her old homeland to always make Milah feel slightly out of place and even guilty; this land is involved in the Ogre Wars. She escaped that, but these people still live with the horrible reality of it.

This time is different, though. She hears music even before she disembarks, and when they do go to find out the source of all this musicality, they find people dancing in the central square, laughing with a carefreeness that she can’t remember ever having encountered here before.

‘What the bloody hell is that all about?’ Danny asks, staring in wonder at the scene in front of them.

That is a very good question, and one Milah has been asking herself as well. Not that she is at all objecting to a party, but it is a strange thing to happen upon in this place, that is normally living in fear of just who will be drafted in next for the war. This, this is a far cry from how things usually are.

Killian decrees that they will mingle and try to enjoy themselves while finding out what has caused this change. His words don’t fall on deaf ears; they have been at sea for weeks and in need of an outing. And Milah won’t deny that it is nice to unwind for a bit. She has come to love the sea, has spent most of the past years on it – so much that it feels strange to have solid ground beneath her feet again – but it can be a bit cramped from time to time. There’s a sense of freedom to wandering wherever her feet want to take her. And they do a good deal of wandering tonight. She lets one of the village’s men persuade her to a dance, and then another, and another.

It’s so easy to shake off the feeling that something is wrong when she is enjoying herself so much. And for a time she lets herself forget about all the things that are wrong in this place, but eventually she has to take time to take a breather and she goes in search of something to drink.

‘Looking for some ale, ma’am?’ a man asks.

‘I’d be glad of it,’ she answers truthfully, walking over and taking the drink. ‘Forgive me, I am not from around here. Why this party?’

He looks at her as if she has grown a second head. ‘Do you mean that you haven’t heard yet?’

Milah doesn’t need to feign ignorance; she truly doesn’t know what he means. ‘I have been at sea for weeks,’ she explains. ‘I’m afraid I’m a bit behind on the news from the land.’

Of course she could have asked for news from the sailors on the ships, but the thought never occurred to her, and she doubts those would even feel in the divulging mood. Killian is not in the habit of killing sailors unless they resist – ‘I’m a pirate, love, not a murderer’ – but they are robbing them, and nothing kills any potential goodwill faster than that. Still, she can justify their way of life. They only ever target the rich vessels, the people who have too much already. They can miss it.

This man is quick to oblige her curiosity, though. ‘The Ogre Wars have ended.’

Milah blinks, barely able to believe that. The Ogre Wars have been going on since… She cannot even remember a time when they weren’t fighting the ogres on one front or another. And of course there have been rumours from time to time that the fighting had ended or was about to end, but it was always more wishful thinking than anything else. Milah has no doubt that it is not so different this time.

He must have seen her look of pure disbelief. ‘No, it is true this time. I was there, in the trenches, when he ended it.’ Conviction is burning in his eyes.

And it is true that there has never been a witness to any of those supposed ends to the Ogre Wars, but this man claims to be. Could it really be this time? ‘Who is this he?’ she asks.

‘The Dark One.’ There is a reverence in his voice that suggests he is on the verge of worshipping him.

Of course Milah has heard of the Dark One. He is one of those tales to frighten children with: an immortal being with powers too dark to contemplate. But unlike most children’s tales, the Dark One does exist. Someone in her old land had employed his services is what she has heard. The word is that it was his job to make sure that the recruitment of soldiers ran smoothly. Apparently he stopped the war instead.

Which makes no sense whatsoever. All the stories concur: the Dark One doesn’t do good deeds. Ending the war that has taken such a terrible toll over the years does count as a very good deed in her opinion.

‘That’s… remarkable,’ she comments, careful to omit any hint that she thinks that this is just as wild a story as all the others.

‘It was.’ The man nods with fervour. ‘He just walked onto the field of battle and made it stop. All of a sudden, it was over. I’ve never seen anything like it. He’s a hero, Rumplestiltskin is.’

It turns out that taking a swallow was not such a good idea, because all of a sudden she is choking on her drink. ‘What did you say?’

Uncertainty flashes across the man’s face. ‘That’s what they say his name is. No one seems to know for certain, but one hears things.’ He shrugs. ‘It’s a pretty remarkable name, not easy to forget.’

 _Exactly_. That is exactly what she is thinking. Rumplestiltskin is a rather unique name. Of course there are still more people who can bear the same name, but the odds are pretty slim.

A shiver goes down her spine.

She shakes it off. The idea is ridiculous. Rumple is the biggest coward the world has ever known. The very idea that he should be the one to obtain such dark powers and then walk right onto a battlefield to end a war that has lasted so very long should by all rights have her laughing. No, unlikely though it may be, this has to be another Rumplestiltskin. The one she once married would, if he ever even gained such powers, use that newfound power to build himself as many defences as he could think of.

And so she shakes off the nagging feeling that maybe, just maybe, it is the Rumple she knows that has put an end to the war, and goes in search of Killian. They laugh about it over another drink and sneak away from the party early to have some time on their own.

Still, as she’s lying in his arms later that night, watching him sleep, that feeling still persists.

* * *

 

As the days go by, they learn a little more of what has happened there at the end of the war. Strangely enough the account of the man she talked to in that village is confirmed over and over again. The lands are abuzz with the news, celebrations almost outnumber the stars in the sky. It’s as if a shadow has been lifted from the lands now that the war is over and the ogres are defeated. For good, people are whispering. For their sakes, Milah hopes they are right.

The Dark One is hailed as a hero for a time, nothing but good is said about him. This lasts for a while, but then less than savoury stories start popping up. The Dark One is a murderer, a torturer, a sadist. He’s making deals with people, deals that they can never possibly fulfil their end of the bargain of. And when they inevitably can’t deliver, they are made to pay for that failure in some horrible fashion.

It makes Milah feel rather uncomfortable for a variety of reasons. Firstly because there is more news of this Dark One than there ever was of the old. At least, people are mostly in agreement that there was a different Dark One before the end of the war and that the new one killed the old one, although how he accomplished such a feat is unclear. But the second reason that she can’t forget about it is that, if there are rumours about his name, they all still agree that it is Rumplestiltskin or something that is very close to it. And her sense of unease only increases when she learns from which region the Dark One hails.

 _Can it really be possible?_ It is hard to imagine, but stranger things have happened.

She never discusses these things with Killian. He would only laugh about it, telling her that they have nothing to fear, that he will only starts to worry if this so-called Dark One ever develops a love for the sea. As long as he sticks to land, the captain of the Jolly Roger can’t be bothered to worry. And admittedly it is very easy to forget her worries at sea, so she goes with it, lets him silence her with a kiss that makes her almost forget who she is and where she is as well.

* * *

 

It will be a few more months before they will return to where she came from to learn if Baelfire still lives and wants to come with them when they dock in a small town where they’ve done business before. Killian is particularly enthusiastic about its tavern and so Milah had sent him off with a fond smile. Let him go and have his fun. She knows that he won’t do anything other than drinking and maybe a bit of gambling. He’s been faithful to her for as long as she has known him. And she didn’t really feel like going out. She’s been nursing a headache all day that only now begins to lift somewhat.

But she will not deny the others their celebrations. They have recently acquired – a word Milah likes better than stealing – some items with clear magical properties, chief among them a magic bean, that will open a portal to another world. Those are increasingly rare and will fetch a very high price. It’s easily worth more than what they can gather in years. Yes, celebration is in order.

And Killian has returned with a face as if his hangover has set in early and several others have stumbled below deck in various states of coherency. It must have been quite the party they’ve thrown, Milah ponders.

She herself doesn’t feel like sleeping and so she finds herself near the helm just before sunrise, staring out over the harbour and the town beyond it. Most of the crew is still asleep, so it’s quiet on board. For just once, Milah cherishes the silence. She hoped to retrieve Bae months ago, but several circumstances have delayed them. And it will be at least four weeks of sailing to get where they need to be. Bae will be closer to his sixteenth than his fifteenth birthday by the time they come there. Of course there is no real hurry now anymore, not now the war is all over and done with, but it has been so many years since she’s held Bae that now every delay feels like it is more than she can handle.

 _Would he even know me now? Will he even_ want _to know me still?_

It’s questions like those that keep going round and round in her mind. Bae might think that she is long since gone, dead. There is no telling what he will think or do when she suddenly stands before her and chances are that he won’t love her when he learns the truth: that she’s abandoned him to run off with a pirate. He doesn’t know what she knows: that she would have taken him with her in a heartbeat if only it had been possible, that she never stopped loving him, that it has been her plan from the start to come back for him. She can only hope to make him see.

She is pondering all these things, leaning against the helm, when she catches sight of movement in the corner of her eye. Someone is coming aboard. It’s not unusual that a crew member comes back late, but no crew member would feel the need to sneak aboard, nor does she know anyone who owns a cap in that shade of red. It practically screams for attention.

And it sets off Milah’s every alarm. It’s obvious that this intruder has not yet seen her or he would be more careful to avoid being seen. Well, she doesn’t care about that. But she is not going to tolerate any intrusion. She reaches for her sword and discreetly goes after him.

Unsurprisingly he makes straight for the storage room. A thief then. No doubt one of the crew must have consumed too much rum and has blurted out something about the untold riches in the belly of the ship. It’s hardly the first time someone is under the impression they have every right to help themselves to a few pretty baubles. And while Milah is not really in any position to lecture anyone on taking things that do not belong to them, she doesn’t like when someone does the taking from her.

Fortunately she’s skilled enough with a blade to know what she is doing when she follows the thief and locks them in the storage room. He swivels around at the sound of the door closing, but he’s too late; Milah’s sword is already pressed against his throat.

‘Looking for something?’ she asks sweetly.

She can see him struggle with himself, trying to come up with a good excuse for his presence here and failing. He’s been caught rummaging through treasures that do not belong to him on a ship that he has no business being. He will have to get pretty creative to come up with a story that will convince her.

‘Thought so.’

She quickly binds his hands and feet. It’s not that she is afraid that he will harm her, but she doesn’t want him doing a runner. Not that it seems likely. The moment he realises the game is over, he transforms into a whimpering mess.

‘Please, kill me,’ he weeps.

That is unexpected. Most thieves beg for mercy before Killian makes them walk the plank. Pleas for death are new. She tells him as much.

‘You don’t understand,’ he says, looking up at her, fear in his eyes. ‘He’ll kill me if I don’t bring him what he wants.’

This gets stranger and stranger, but Milah has to confess herself intrigued. ‘Who is this he and what does he want from you?’ No doubt Killian would look a great deal intimidating, but you would never know it from the way the thief looks at her.

‘The…’ He swallows. ‘The Dark One. He wants the bean.’

The Dark One. The Dark One is here. And of course he is interested in magical objects. The bean, the magic bean. _Damn you, Dark One_. The last thing she wants is to be given his full attention, especially since the possibility exists that he is indeed the man she once called husband. And Rumple, Killian and Milah herself all in the same town at the same time, that spells disaster. They need to get out of here now, sail before everyone wakes.

‘He should learn that he cannot get everything he wants,’ she replies coolly, picking up the cap that has fallen on the ground, tucking it in her belt. She doesn’t know exactly why, but he seems rather attached to it. _Too_ attached to it, and stranger hiding places have been seen. She’d like to check it over first before she gives it back. And she is a pirate now; stealing things is what she does.

‘But he’ll kill me!’ the man whimpers.

Milah feels some measure of pity for him. She has heard so many stories about what happens to people the Dark One is displeased with, and it’s the kind of fate she wishes on no one, not even on the man who tries to steal from her. Of course, she is not the one to make the decision; that privilege is Killian’s. But she can ask him to have some mercy on him.

She moves to the drawer where they do keep the bean and takes it out. Desperate people have the tendency to get resourceful, and this one looks plenty motivated to get back to his employer. Milah has no intention whatsoever to let him, which means that the bean needs to be relocated.

‘I’d worry more about the captain,’ she informs him. ‘The Dark One doesn’t know you are here, does he?’

She’ll not deny the relief when he answers that the Dark One doesn’t know from where the bean would be obtained, which will buy them at least a little time. It’s easy enough to find out, of course, but hopefully they will be long gone by the time the news reaches the Dark One’s ears.

‘Good.’

She marches out and locks him in with the treasure. He’ll have a hard time getting out of there the way he’s bound, and she will have Danny remove him to the brig before he makes a serious attempt at escape. For now she needs to speak to Killian and tell him to go, to go now. She’ll not take any chances, not with the Dark One.

Milah runs into Danny – always the early riser – on her way to the captain’s quarters and informs him that there’s a prisoner that wants taking to the brig as soon as possible.

‘What’d he try to steal then?’ Danny asks.

‘The bean,’ Milah replies. ‘What else?’ She hands him aforementioned bean. ‘I need you to hold on to this. Don’t let it out of your sight.’ Because she has absolutely no intention of the Dark One getting anywhere near it.

The first mate sets to work, while Milah goes to wake Killian to tell him that they need to get out of here now. But the captain’s cabin is empty, the bed unslept in. If he had been at the helm, his favourite place when he wants to think, she would have seen him. There’s a mild panic making itself known. Something here is off.

‘Danny!’ she calls when she comes back on deck. ‘Where’s the captain?’

Everyone has their tells, and Danny’s is glancing in the direction of the sea. He’s uncomfortable, extremely so. ‘On shore.’

He was in his cabin before she set off to chase the thief, she knows that. Milah has seen him entering and she has been at the helm ever since. If he had left, she would have seen him. And he is making a mysterious disappearance on the same night the Dark One is in town, who may or not be Rumplestiltskin.

 _Oh no, you didn’t._ Cold dread is weaving its way around her heart.

‘Danny, where has he gone?’ _Who is he meeting?_

‘He asked me not to tell you,’ the first mate confesses. He may be Killian’s right hand man, but he’s good friends with Milah as well. It isn’t fair to exploit that, but she will.

‘Where?’ she repeats.

And he breaks. ‘The Dark One challenged him to a duel, just a street away from the tavern.’

Milah doesn’t listen anymore. Panic is filling her up and she runs.

* * *

 

Rational thinking dictates that it cannot possibly be Rumplestiltskin who Killian has gone off to meet. He is too much of a coward. He would never even come near a sword, always shying away from violence. But there are too many coincidences to just dismiss, and Milah has never been a great believer in coincidences anyway. It’s a gut feeling, something that has been gnawing away at her ever since she learned the supposed name of the Dark One, something that Killian has always laughed at, but that does not necessarily make it wrong of her to think like she does.

And she has been right all along. Milah knows this town; it’s a favourite of theirs because law enforcement here is practically non-existent and chances of unfortunate run-ins with guards of any sort are just as unlikely as summer snows. She knows this town like the back of her hand, and she has no trouble locating the place Danny indicated.

And just in time. Killian is on his knees, face twisted in pain. There’s another man with him, his hand reaching inside Killian’s chest. Milah has heard of this, and even though she never witnessed this for herself – and she would have been only too happy to never see it at all – she knows what she is looking at.

And the panic bubbles over. ‘Stop!’

The horror is probably written all over her face, and she can only stare in shock at the familiar and yet unfamiliar face of Rumplestiltskin that stares back at her. _It’s him. It’s really him._ And yet it is not him at the same time. There is little light to see by, but even with only the pre-dawn light she can see that this Rumple is not exactly the same one she left all those years ago. He’s much better clothed, for one. Ironically enough he seems to have taken some of his fashion sense from Killian, all blacks and leathers. That is where the comparison stops, though.

His skin. What has happened to his skin? It’s scaly, like the reptiles she has seen in faraway lands. His clothing seems to fit with it, but it is hardly human looking. And that is it, he does not look human anymore. More like a beast. Like the Dark One. Instinctively she knows that there will be no reasoning with him like there was with the cowardly spinner.

And by the looks of it, he has recognised her as well. ‘Milah.’

It’s not affection she hears. It is shock, and cold anger. She supposes she should be glad that he takes his hand out of Killian’s chest without a heart in it when he rises, but this is no time to feel relief for anything. The situation is too precarious for that. And Killian has fallen to the ground, making no attempts at all to get to his feet. _Run_ , she thinks at him. _If you want to live, then run_.

Because this is not the same Rumple she once knew. This is someone else entirely. _Rumple is gentle. He works hard. He doesn’t get drunk. He isn’t violent._ She already knows that neither the first nor the last of that list are true anymore, and goodness knows about the rest. This is not Rumple, it is the Dark One. And the Dark One just so happens to be wearing Rumple’s face and harbour his grudges.

 _We’re doomed_. She remembers thinking the same thing another time, in another life, when Rumple came home from the front with smashed foot, the one that would forever mark him as a coward. It is no less true now than it was then, but she has a feeling that this time, it is more deadly.

‘How?’ he demands. It is more of a low growl than the soft-spoken question the old Rumplestiltskin would have asked.

For some reason Killian thinks this is the time to tell her to run, but she’ll be damned if she does. She came here for him, and she will not leave without him. She’s thrown her lot in with him, and he has never given her cause to regret it. She means that ‘No, I’m _not_ leaving without you’ with which she responds to his plea for her to flee with all her heart.

‘Oh, how sweet,’ the Dark One remarks. Something about his voice sounds almost childish, but a child could never sound this cruel. Oh, Milah wants to run, but leaving Killian behind, that she will not do. ‘It appears there is more to this tale than I know. Tell it to me, Milah!’ he invites with false enthusiasm.

As if he is giving her any choice now that he is holding Killian at sword point. And it is bitter irony that it is Killian’s own blade that might kill him if Milah does not cooperate.

‘Please, don’t hurt him!’ she begs.

The fear is making her do and say things that she certainly did not plan on doing and saying. But she is nervous, and frightened too. She doesn’t know this man. He looks like Rumple, and he clearly has his memories, but other than that, the man she married all those years ago has disappeared, leaving a stranger in his place. She does not know him at all. All she has is the knowledge of the stories that are being told about him, and that does not make her look at the near future with optimism at all. There is no telling what he might do and it scares her like nothing has ever scared her before.

‘I can explain!’ she adds.

‘Tick-tock, dearie,’ he snarls. ‘Tick-tock!’ Strangely enough there is something of Rumple there to be found. Dearie. Once it was one of the endearments he used for her. Back then, it made her feel loved and cherished. But this is only a mockery of what once was; twisted and dark and wrong, so completely wrong.

But now is hardly the time to reflect and draw comparisons. Hard though it is, she’ll have to tell the truth now. But even though she does tell the truth, it isn’t pleasing to his ears, because he puts some pressure on the blade. Killian’s cry of pain feels like a blade is being stabbed through her heart.

_Please, please, don’t hurt him._

‘I didn’t mean for it to turn out this way,’ she swears. And she didn’t. She never meant for her life to turn out like this, but it did. And here they are, when it is starting to fall apart. ‘I’m sorry.’ Could he really not keep that blade away from Killian? She knows the grimace of pain when she sees it, and Rumple is hurting him. So, no, she does not really mean her apology, but she’ll say _anything_ if it just gets that sword away him.

She can see by the look on his face that Rumple doesn’t buy her apology. No, Rumple might have. Rumple never had enough backbone to stay angry at her for long. It is the Dark One who doesn’t buy her apology. ‘And so here we are!’ he exclaims, making some strange gesture with one of his hands, while the one holding the sword still doesn’t move. ‘You’ve come here to save the life of your true love, the pirate.’

There is something in the way that he says true love that makes Milah wonder whether or not that is true. She supposes so; there has been a spark between them from the start, and she can’t even begin to think what she would do if she lost him. Isn’t that why she is pleading for his life right now?

‘I didn’t realise the power of true love before,’ the Dark One remarks, with just the smallest hint of wonder to his voice. Why does that not surprise her? Rumplestiltskin may have understood love – Milah is quite convinced that he loved her even long after she had stopped loving him – but the Dark One knows only darkness, hate and foul magic. ‘It is impressive. I’d hate to break it up.’ Then the unadulterated hate is back on his face. ‘Actually, no, I’d love to.’

Time is running out. Rumple’s eyes turn back to Killian and the cry of pain escaping from his mouth makes it clear that he is really going to do it, he is really going to kill Killian. And she can’t let that happen. She can barely bear the thought of him dying in a fair fight, even though she knows that is something Killian himself would have peace with. But this, this is murder, and Rumple is doing it only because she once begged of him to take her away. This is her fault, and she knows it all too well.

_Think, Milah, think!_

And so thinking is what she does. She tries to remember every bit of information she’s ever heard about the Dark One and his methods. Most of it is not encouraging, but then she does remember. Deals. He makes deals with everyone. And she happens to possess something he wants.

‘Wait!’ she exclaims before she can think it through, before she can remind herself of the fate that befalls the people who make deals with this dark creature. ‘I have something you want.’

‘Well, I find that very difficult to believe, dearie.’

Rumplestiltskin clearly believes that and Milah doesn’t doubt it, but he doesn’t know what she does. But at least he’s listening and not tormenting Killian any longer. He even withdraws the sword this time. Milah can’t keep the relief off her face. Clearly the Dark One is listening, for now.

_I need to keep him talking, make sure he gets interested._

She produces the red cap, ever so grateful for having picked it up in the first place.

Rumple recognises it. ‘Where did you get that?’

 _From the thief you sent to take the magic bean. I never knew the Dark One would get himself involved with petty thieves._ ‘You know who I took it from,’ she says. He must know; he was the one to send the owner in the first place. ‘And I may not know what the Dark One wants with a magic bean, but I have it.’

And she is ever so glad that she gave that bean to Danny to look after. If the Dark One suspects she has it with her, he would simply take it and then kill both Killian and her, just to have done with them. The pirate part of her is quick to remind her that she doesn’t want to give this bean away, but she wants to live. She wants to live and sail away from that man that isn’t Rumplestiltskin anymore.

‘I feel a proposal coming on.’ The Dark One narrows his eyes – and what has happened to those? – in a way that makes Milah’s resolve waver for just a moment.  
But she can’t turn back now; this is her only hope. ‘The magic bean in exchange for our lives.’

It’s almost the same way in which she once presented her terms to Killian, when she was convincing him to take her away from that life she no longer wanted. And the bargain is more than fair. Rumple will get his bean cheaper than he would have gotten it from his hired burglar, she’s sure.

‘Deal?’ She hates that tremor in her voice, but she can’t keep it out. There is just too much at stake, and Rumple coming closer and closer does not help either. Milah wants to run, wants to stay as far away from him as she possibly can, but that is not an option. She’ll stand her ground. And at the very least she can find some solace in knowing that makes her braver than Rumplestiltskin has ever been.

He keeps on walking until there is barely any room left between them. Up close he looks even more terrifying, even less human than he did from a distance. Scaly skin, and almost glazed over eyes that seem to look right through her regardless. The only thing that hasn’t changed is his hair. It looks the same as she remembers it, the most human part that is left of him. So she looks at that and tells herself to keep her nerve.

But the Dark One has no intention of killing her, yet. ‘I want to see it first.’

Milah takes a deep breath. ‘Deal,’ she says.

Most deals she makes are sealed by a handshake. She isn’t sure she wants to shake his, though. The urge to run is still present, so she won’t deny her relief when he gives a nod – barely visible – and she has a good excuse to run over to Killian.

He’s trying to get to his feet and so she moves to help him. The pale morning light and the black clothes make it hard to see if he is bleeding, but she thinks he is. His shirt feels a sticky wet. Blood. Milah knows that she shouldn’t be surprised; she’s heard him cry out, so yes, she knows. It doesn’t lessen her anger towards her former husband. The marriage has never been officially disbanded, but she doesn’t see him as a husband any longer.

_I should have married Killian a long time ago._

She helps him to his feet and lets him lean on her as they walk. Normally he would make some attempt at flirting of some kind, so that he doesn’t do that today is telling. He’s in too much pain, and this is hardly the time for banter. She’ll save that for when they are back at sea, with nothing but the wind and the waves around them.

Rumplestiltskin walks behind them at a pace that suggests he finds their pace much too slow. That makes her realise something else that has changed. The limp. The limp is gone, like it was never even there in the first place. His magic must have healed him, she guesses, restored his foot in a way that no ordinary medicine can do. But even before his foot was smashed, he never walked with such confidence as he does now. He is in charge of this, and they can only do as he wants or die. And who’s to say the Dark One won’t kill them when he has the magic bean in his hands after all?

The sun is well on the rise by the time they reach the Jolly Roger. Something about the ship and the smell of the sea make Milah feel a bit more self-assured. This is her domain, her home, where she feels at ease. The shifting of Rumplestiltskin’s eyes betrays that he, on the other hand, is not.

Thank goodness for Danny. ‘Milah, what happened?’ Still, she can see the relief in his eyes that his captain is at least alive, if not as conscious as he should be at the moment. He freezes though the moment he catches sight of Rumplestiltskin.

 _We’re doomed_ , she thinks, but that is not what she says. ‘Fetch some water,’ she orders. ‘And get me that prisoner from below deck.’ She makes eye contact with him as she also orders him to bring the bean, hoping he knows it means not to let on fact that he carries it on his person. If she wants to stand any chance of surviving an encounter with the Dark One, she needs to stay in control.

Rumple has clearly gotten over his uneasiness as he struts aboard. ‘Well, well, it seems you finally found the family you could never have with me.’

 _I wanted to have a family with you. Your cowardice took it all away_. But she keeps her tongue and pretends she hasn’t heard him. And fortunately the arrival of the prisoner minus hat distracts her. Rumple hardly takes any notice of the man himself – confirming for Milah that to the Dark One people mean nothing – but his eyes do drift to the hand in which she has the bean.

She holds it up for his inspection, lets him get a good look at it, but tosses it over to Killian before he can take it from her. Milah needs this deal confirmed, and then she wants him as far away from the Jolly Roger as she possibly can.

And Killian knows how to play this game. ‘You asked to see it,’ he tells the Dark One, his own confidence returning now that he is back on his ship. ‘Now you have.’ But if they had been playing this game with other pirates or merchants or anyone who is not the Dark One, then he would sound nonchalant, as if it means nothing at all. There is a tension in his voice that Milah feels in her chest, a tension that is making her heart race, and not in a good way.

‘Do we have a deal?’ she urges. _Damn you, Rumple, just confirm the deal_. For all his cruelty, he hasn’t been known to break any. She needs him to agree, and they will be safe. ‘Can we go our separate ways?’ _Can we leave and never have to see you again?_

‘Do you mean: do I forgive you?’ All of a sudden his eyes are turned towards her and it takes all her willpower not to stagger back. ‘Can I move on?’

He starts to walk around her and as much as Milah wants to run, she finds herself frozen in place. She doesn’t think magic has anything to do with it; it is her own fear. It’s what she would do if a wasp came nearby: stay still and hope it leaves without a sting.

It’s only when he is some distance away that she turns to look at him. ‘Perhaps,’ he allows. ‘I can see you are… truly… in love.’

The way he emphasises the truly makes her think that he does not quite believe it. Well, he can believe whatever he likes. As long as he leaves this ship and never returns, he can think she’s slept with all of the crew for all she cares. She doesn’t need his forgiveness. The only forgiveness she could possibly need is Bae’s, for leaving him with such a man. _What was I thinking? Bae, I’m so sorry._ She doesn’t think Rumple would have harmed him; Baelfire always meant everything to him. _All for the boy._

So she tells him thank you and means it. As long as he just goes.

But he doesn’t. She’s halfway back to Killian when his voice stops her. ‘Just one question,’ he says, and there is an edge to his voice that sets off her every alarm.  
‘What do you want to know?’ she asks. All of a sudden she is fighting to hang onto that air of nonchalance that she cloaked herself in. Something is about to go wrong, something is about to go _very_ wrong.

And so it does. ‘How could you leave Bae?’ His finger points at her and then the Jolly Roger itself turns against them as if by magic. And oh yes, magic it is. ‘Do you know what it’s like?’ he asks, almost conversationally as chaos erupts around them. ‘Walking home, that night?’

‘Rumple…’ she tries to interrupt.

He goes on as if she hasn’t spoken at all. ‘Knowing I had to tell our son that his mother was dead?’

The panic is trying to take over well and good now. This deal isn’t working, she knows that now, and all she can do is tell him what he wants to hear in the hopes of salvaging whatever there is left to salvage. _We’re doomed_. But it won’t stop her from trying.

‘I was wrong to lie to you,’ she tells him. The fact that she is already more terrified than she has ever been in her life helps her to achieve that exact right tone of voice. ‘I was the coward, I know.’ That should do the trick, saying that not him, but she is the coward. It doesn’t mean that she means it. It is what he wants to hear.

But if that is supposed to pacify him, she fails. ‘You left him!’ he shouts. ‘You abandoned him!’

And at least there is one thing about which she can be truthful. ‘And there is not a day that goes by that I don’t feel sorry for that!’ Now more than ever. _What madman have I left him with? What kind of life has he known in my absence?_

‘Sorry isn’t enough!’ Rumple is losing his temper, shouting in a way she’s never known him to shout. This is Rumple’s grievance, but it is coming out with all the malice and vengefulness of the Dark One.

_We’re doomed._

All of a sudden the shouting is done and it is almost a whisper that reaches her ears. ‘You let him go.’

She is accused and found guilty. Yes, she let Baelfire go. She regrets that, has been regretting it for years. But she can still justify the choices she made. Milah knows that, feels that. She could not have gone on living like that, and if there had been the slightest opportunity to take Bae with her, she would have done it. But such a possibility did not exist and so they are where they are. The past is written, and she cannot un-write it. Nor does she want to.

‘I let my misery cloud my judgement,’ she says. It’s only half a lie; she was miserable, but it has never clouded her judgement in any way. But if that is what he wants to hear, she’ll give it to him and gladly, as long as he takes the bean and gets off this ship.

Of course, the Dark One is not so obliging. ‘Why were you so miserable?’ he demands.

 _He still can’t see it. All these years, and he still can’t see what his cowardice did_. He still thinks that no blame should be attached to him when he has made sure that they could never have a normal life after he smashed his own foot. So of course it makes sense for him to remove all evidence of his own cowardice, but yet rub her nose in all her faults.

And she snaps. ‘Because I never loved you.’ It’s a lie, but she’s angry, so angry. And she certainly does not love him now. This creature is nothing like the gentle Rumple she once chose for a husband.

It’s a mistake. For a few seconds nothing happens, but then the Dark One acts, thrusting his hand into her chest. Behind her she hears Killian cry out for her, but she can’t respond, can’t breathe, can’t think. The pain is excruciating, burning through her like fire.

Then it’s over and she falls, and she is too weak to get back on her feet again. It’s like she is hollow inside, like she can’t feel anymore. She’s still herself, but her heart, everything she feels, is torn out of her. She can see it, in Rumple’s hand, glowing. In a way it is almost beautiful.

And then Killian is there, holding her, panic, no, dread written all over his face. He looks terrified, but not for himself. And maybe he is right to. Milah knows that no force in this world may save her life now.

‘I love you,’ she whispers. It’s hard to feel anything, but this she knows. What she has with Killian is not just something that she feels in her heart, but also something she knows with her head. The life she’s had with him may be infinitely more risky than the life she’s had with Rumple, but in its own way it has been more reliable than anything she has ever known before, because he has never let her down, has always been there for her. And deep down she has always known this. It’s as good a thought to die with as any.

 _I’ll always choose you,_ she means to say, but she cannot breathe. She only sees Killian’s eyes.

It’s the best sight a dying woman could possibly wish for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we are at the end of this story. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.  
> Thank you for reading. If you’ve got a minute, a review would be most welcome.


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